Never Too Late
by Mona
Summary: Title shortened. Old one was just too long. Chapter 7 finally arrived, only one more chapter to go. Enjoy.
1. Prologue

"It's Never Too Late (To Fall in Love Again)"  
An original Gargoyles story by Mona  
Disclaimer: Characters from Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are property of Disney and used without permission. Original characters are the author's property. The songs mentioned are property of their authors/perfomers. The first flashback is from the Gargoyles episode "Hunter's Moon: Part Three", but what happens directly after is mine.

Author's Note: Yes, I know this story does conflict with Greg Weisman's Master Plan. Robyn Canmore was supposed to head the Bad Guys, and meet Dingo. They'd get married and have kids. But to me, Dingo seems like the confirmed bachelor. And even if it wasn't, I just can't see Robyn as his "sheila." And look at all that Robyn has in common with Macbeth. This story is meant as a tribute to Valentine's Day, on which the first chapter will be posted. If you don't like the idea of Robyn/Macbeth, stop reading. There will be some romance between David and Fox Xanatos, and between Broadway and Angela. And what Gargoyles romance story would be complete without some Goliath/Elisa? The Goliath Chronicles never officially said how much time spanned over the thirteen episodes, but they seem rather fast-paced, so I'll assume a month or two. This story takes place after "Fetch" and "Father's Day," but you can understand this one without reading those other two.

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." -- I Corinthians 13: 1-13. 

Prologue:

(Paris, France)  
(September 28, 1980) 

The yellow moon illuminated the city of Paris, shining in the black sky like a round lightbulb.

"Tonight is the Hunter's Moon," Charles Canmore announced. "Our moon, my children. Your great-grandfather died fighting the Demon. My father sought in vain for her all his life. Tonight, it finally ends with me." He pulled on the red-streaked mask.

"Just because our ancestors hunted gargoyles doesn't mean we have to," Robyn, the middle child, commented.

"It is our destiny as Canmores, Robyn," her father explained quietly.

Jonathan, the youngest, clutched the Hunter's arm. "Daddy, don't go! You'll get hurt!"

"Don't worry, Jonny," Charles said soothingly. "I've trained all my life for this." 

Jason, the eldest, pointed to the sky. "Look!"

In the air was a winged creature. To others in Paris at the time, it was a giant bat brought on by too much wine. But to the Canmores, she would always be The Demon.

The gargoyle removed a small statue from the base of one of the many statues at the cathedral. There was the thin, red beam of a laser. She spun around and gasped. 

"It's over, Demon," Charles hissed, brandishing a laser pistol.

Below, the three children waited.

Suddenly, the Hunter tumbled from the roof, screaming. He hit the ground with a painful thud.

Robyn and Jon rushed over. Jason was rooted to the ground.

The gargess flew by, laughing maniacally. 

Jason's bones felt chilled to the marrow. He ran to his brother and sister. Robyn had pulled off the mask. Their father's skin was pale, blue eyes closed.

Jon began to cry, burying his face in his sister's chest. She patted his back as she tried to fight her own tears.

"How can this be?" Jason asked at last. His throat felt blocked, as if he had a lump. "This must be a bad dream."

"I wish it were," Robyn whispered. "I wish we could wake up and Dad will be in the kitchen making pancakes, and there'll be no monsters --" Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jason headed toward a payphone. His feet felt like lead. He didn't want to pick up the receiver; it would be like admitting the impossible had happened. He stared at the phone for a few minutes, then picked up and dialed. 

"May I help you?" came the emotionless voice of the dispatcher.

"Notre Dame Cathedral. My father...fell--" He choked out.

The ambulance arrived within minutes.

"How did this happen?" asked the coroner.

"He fell off the roof," Robyn replied, voice dripping with frost. "What does it look like?"

"What the heck was he doing on the roof?" A paramedic wondered out loud.

The coroner turned to his chart:  
Certification of Death:  
6 Place du Parvis  
Name of Deceased: Canmore, Charles  
Date of Death: September 28, 1980.  
Time of Death: 10:00 PM.  
Treatment administered: None. (DOA)  
Person Identifying Deceased: Canmore, Jason.  
Body to be released to: Canmore family.  
Cause of death: High fall.  
Manner of death?

The last one puzzled him. The coroner looked at the body. The position indicated that he definitely didn't jump. It looks more like he was pushed. But why would anyone push a guy off the roof of a church? And what was he doing up there in the first place. He scribbled 'undetermined' in the manner of death blank.

"I can't believe he's gone," Jon whimpered.

The first step of grief was usually denial, and the second was anger. Jason was fast approaching step two. His hands curled into fists of rage. "He won't have died in vain. We'll make sure of that." 

(Right after Hunter's Moon)

"Welcome home, Goliath," Elisa whispered as she descended from Castle Wyvern's battlements. The policewoman hummed as she exited the Eyrie Building and got in her car. An old Carole King song began to play on the radio: "Welcome Home." It was off to her apartment, to feed Cagney and catch some Z's. Then she'd see her friend Jason before the night shift began. 

(Six hours later)  
"The question is less about Jon," Jason Canmore commented. He was still lying on the hospital bed. 

Elisa nodded. "What is it then?"

"It's where do we go from here. I've concentrated so much on avenging my father, that I never thought of what would happen when all was said and done. Robyn and I had to pay heavy fines. We sold our equipment. The airship, too. Or what was left of it -- Jon smashed it pretty well."

"Did Dr. Sato tell you how long you'd be here?"

"He said I'd spend another few days here in the ICU. Then I'd be transferred to the medical floor and stay anywhere from a few weeks to three months. I'm not looking forward to it."

"Who would?" Elisa smiled a little. "Look on the bright side, big guy. The rest of your body is fine. You can still shoot a fly out from between its wings."

The corners of Jason's mouth turned up slightly. "That chase was fun. But no PD in the country would hire a cripple." 

Meanwhile, Dr. Sato handed a physical therapist a file. "That's your next patient."

The therapist, Carmella DeZevalda, opened the folder. She was tall, willowy. Her skin was a shade lighter than cinnamon, and had she had thick black hair. "Jason Canmore, age 32. Severed spine between L-1 and L-2, paralysis. How did it happen?"

"Some sort of laser," the surgeon replied. "Entered through the front, sliced through the layers of the skin, nicked the diaphragm, shattered the two vertebra and cut the cord clean through. I repaired the vascular damage." 

"When do I see him?"

"When he's transferred from the ICU."

She glanced at the photographs. "He looks like a fighter."

"Most of them are." It seemed like only yesterday the surgeon had dug a bullet out of Elisa Maza, who had recovered. Slowly, but miraculously. "The young ones. It's like a flame that just won't go out."  
(Shortly after "The Journey")

Vincent Greggarino, best known as Vinnie, relaxed in the passenger seat of the car as it pulled into the airport. "Thanks for the lift, Chester."

"No problem," Chester Berkeley replied. "You seem like a nice enough person. Good luck in Tokyo."

"Good luck staying here. New York can be rough."

"I know," Chester cut off. "Castaway would have my head if he knew I was driving you here."

"Why the Quarrymen, Berk? I thought you were more into saving trees than the hammer stuff."

"I'm still concerned about the environment, Vin. But those gargoyles creep me out."

"At least they didn't get you fired."

"Yeah," Chester said sadly, stopping the car. Vinnie got out. "Send me a postcard."

"I will." The door slammed shut. 

Chester drove away, thinking. He had recently lost his job as an archaeologist due to budget cuts. The Quarrymen second-in-command position was a temporary fix. Those creatures scared him.

There had been rumors of statues coming to life at night, and even gargoyles seen during the day near a Mayan site a few miles from Tikal. But vandals had destroyed the statues and looted the ruins. 

He didn't know that four gargoyles had survived the massacre. 

(Just after "For It May Come True")

"Morgan?" 

"Yes, Detective?" Officer Morgan looked up from the computer. Elisa Maza was standing next to him.

"Have you scanned Castaway's prints into AFIS?"

"Yup. I was just logging the weaponry we confiscated."

"Let me see something." Elisa sat down and clicked on 'Automated Fingerprint Identification System', AFIS for short. She pulled up John Castaway's prints, and clicked a button marked 'compare all.' 

"You think Castaway's prints match someone else's?" Morgan asked.

"Don't you think that last name sounds phony?"

"I've heard sillier. Like the literature scholar that was just on Nightwatch. Lennox Macduff."

Elisa almost burst out laughing. Oh, Morgan, you have no idea.

The computer was flipping through the various fingerprint records throughout the country. There was a beep. 'Match Found' flashed on the screen. Elisa clicked 'open'.

A child's fingerprints. Parents were probably members of a program that had the authorities fingerprint their children in case the worst happened.

Morgan looked incredulous. "That's a match?"

Elisa clicked "enlarge" and then 'compare.' A few seconds later, the message '100 match' beeped.

Morgan's mouth dropped open. "Well, I'll be dipped..."

Elisa glanced at the profile. "Yeah, I know."

The name bar read Jonathan Canmore. 

(Right after "Generations")

Angela stood on the battlements of Castle Wyvern, looking at New York City sprawled below. "You think you know a person."

David Xanatos looked up. No one else was around, so he assumed Angela was talking to him. "Actually, I don't."

"I thought she had changed. She sounded so sincere."

"Sometimes the best intentions are fraught with disappointment," Xanatos replied emotionlessly.

"Was that Emerson?" 

"Xanatos, actually."

Angela crossed her arms. "I've got better things to do than listen to you quote yourself."

"I was quoting my father. He said it when he found out the true nature of my mother."

"What was she like?" asked the young gargess.

"My mother? Her name was Madrigal."

"That's very pretty." 

Xanatos gave his trademark satisfied smile. "She said once to me, 'David, you're greedy' -- and meant it as a compliment." 

"Why am I not surprised?"

Not much surprised the multi-trillionaire, but he wondered why Angela was talking to him. She usually went to her boyfriend or father for advice. Or Hudson. "That's what my dad said."

"Do you still talk to her."

"On the phone, yes." 

"She didn't come to see Alex?"

"No. She likes to keep at least a thousand miles between her and her ex." 

The sun was about to come up. Angela opened her wings. "Thanks, Xanatos." She glided toward her daily perch. 

Xanatos went inside and sat at his desk. He pulled out a sheet of his expensive custom-made stationery and began to write a message:

Dear Mother,

I have enclosed a photo of your grandson, Alexander Fox Xanatos...

End of prologue


	2. Victims of circumstance

(After "Angels in the Night")  
  
(The Nightstone Unlimited building)   
  
Dominique Destine sat at her mahogany desk. A half a cup of coffee steamed from the blotter. "I think I'll cancel my subscription to the New York Times."   
  
The shredded article lay in the trash. An account of how a small group of winged creatures had saved a train full of people.   
  
"I grow tired of the gargoyle hunters," she muttered. "Operation Clean Slate would have worked if the three Hunters hadn't gotten Goliath involved. Then her hired hitman scheme had fallen apart. An idea came to her. What if I got rid of the three Hunters now? Then there'll be no descendants. The vendetta will finally end. The Quarrymen are falling apart because their leader's in prison, so they're no threat. And I'll finally be free to destroy the humans!" The red haired CEO glanced out the window. The sun was about to set.  
  
************************************************************************************************  
  
Across Manhattan, in a large mansion, was an immortal Scottish king. Macbeth was in his library, reading Tuck Everlasting. Or trying to. He put it back on his shelf impatiently.   
  
It reminded him too much of his own life.   
  
"At least the Tucks had each other," he muttered. He sank into his armchair. "Where do I go from here?" If destroying Demona -- and himself -- wasn't the answer, what was?   
  
It wasn't the immortality itself Macbeth hated. He had always been curious about life outside his native Scotland, and eternal life had given him plenty of time to travel. Reading was also a passion, and there had been no shortage of literature.   
  
It was the loneliness. That ugly, black feeling that hurt more than any physical wound. There were days when Macbeth just wanted to curl up and cry. But no matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn't come.   
  
Today was one of those days. The calendar on the wall confirmed it. It was his wedding anniversary. His and Gruoch's. The memories cut like a knife. He missed her. Her kindness and courage. Her intelligence and her beauty. The vows of love they had pledged were still unbroken, as if they had been spoken five minutes ago. He recalled the day they had parted. The sun was coming up, but inside his soul was storming.   
  
It seemed in France he had found love once again. What had happened directly before was a total blank. One minute, he had been in the Eyrie Building and the next he was in a boat on the River Seine. He had met a redhead named Dominique Destine, but she was only an illusion. Demona, of all beings. How embarrassing.   
  
And Goliath had almost laughed at his expense: "Next time, make sure you get a good look at her at night."   
  
"We'll always have Paris, ha," Macbeth muttered bitterly. It seemed no matter how hard he tried to escape Demona, they were still 'forever and eternal bound' in ties only severable by the annihilation of them both. He headed down the empty hall to his bedroom, but decided against it. He wasn't tired. "I guess I could take a walk."   
  
***************************************************************  
  
The night was fairly routine. Protecting New York City seemed an eternal chore sometimes, but peace pervaded tonight.   
  
"I guess this city does sleep," Elisa commented to her partner. They were seated in her car, which was parked on a downtown street.   
  
A shadow fell over the car as Goliath glided down. "Elisa? May I borrow your partner? I need to speak with him."  
  
"Sure," replied the policewoman. "Go ahead."   
  
****************************************************************  
  
At the same time, two of the Canmore siblings were in their two-bedroom apartment, eating dinner. Jason was in a wheelchair, Robyn in a chrome chair. A second chair remained empty.   
  
"Isn't Carmella just angelic?" Jason asked.   
  
"She's too insecure for my tastes," replied Robyn. "And too stubborn."   
  
"I can handle stubborn. I've lived with you."   
  
"Be careful, brother. You sound like you're in love."   
  
"Now, what's wrong with love?"   
  
"Nothing, except it's fickle and shallow! Pretty soon you'll be sending your therapist flowers and writing poetry like every other lovesick swain."   
  
"Be careful what you say about love, Robyn. It can sneak up on you."   
  
"Never. And as for Carmella, she's just rebound over a certain detective."   
  
"I still like Elisa, but now it's just platonic. Ebenezer Scrooge didn't believe in Christmas cheer until he met the ghost of Jacob Marley. For all your intelligence and fighting skills, Robbie, you really have a low emotional intelligence."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Ever since Dad died, you've hidden your emotions. You show the world this cold exterior. And I don't think you've ever really learned to love."   
  
Robyn stood up, glaring. "I loved my dad!" She crossed the dining room to the hall. "I'm going out." She slammed the door behind her.   
  
Jason was still at the table. "Thanks for proving my point."   
  
*****************************************************************  
  
"Elisa won't hear us all the way over here. Now what did you want to talk to me about?" Matt asked.   
  
"Her birthday," Goliath sighed. "Gargoyles don't usually give gifts, but since Elisa's human -- and because she's so special to me -- I've decided to make an exception."   
  
"She broke her watch last week, so I got her a replacement. Only I changed the song it plays. 'Yesterday' doesn't really suit Elisa. Hmm. How about diamonds?"   
  
"I don't have that kind of money."   
  
"Flowers?"   
  
"They'll wilt. I want to give her something more permanent."   
  
"Chocolates?"   
  
"I can't bring chocolates within a mile radius of Broadway."   
  
"Lovebirds?"   
  
"With Cagney?"   
  
"Right. I forgot."   
  
****************************************************************  
  
Ann Arky raised her eyebrows at the young woman in her office. "Absolutely not!"   
  
"Miss Arky!" Carmella DeZevalda protested. "Jason Canmore is a thirty-two year old in the prime of his youth. You can't just expect him to sit in a wheelchair the rest of his life. Not with the medical technology we have today."   
  
"That surgery is still experimental, and very expensive!"   
  
"How can you approve it for general use if it's not tested?"   
  
"The HMOs don't see it that way. Not when they can save the money."   
  
"Oh, HMOs can take a flying leap! If every single one of you spontaneously combusted, the whole world would be better off!" Carmella's cheeks were red. "Do you remember what happened to my mother a couple years ago?"   
  
"Oh, yes. She had arthritis in her hands so bad that she need titanium bone replacements. I only wanted to pay for one hand."   
  
"And you remember my brother, Carson, right?"   
  
"How can I forget? He came right over here and threatened to break my neck unless I agreed to pay for both."   
  
"Because Mother wanted to sew clothes for her grandchildren. You can't sew with one hand. HMOs put people over profits."   
  
"You may be right, Miss DeZevalda, but I doubt you could fight me. I probably outweigh you by a hundred pounds. Why is this case so special?"   
  
"If you were a young man," Carmella hissed through gritted teeth, "would you want to be paralyzed from the waist down the rest of your life?"   
  
Ann smirked. "You're in love with your patient, aren't you? You want him to be standing when you--" Carmella slapped her across the face. "My dear, I feel exactly the same way about you. But whether you like it or not, the insurance will not cover the surgery. So unless you can get that money yourself, well, don't come crying to me! Good night." She shoved Carmella out of her office and slammed the door.   
  
******************************************************************  
  
(Castle Wyvern)   
  
"Words of love so soft and tender won't win a girl's heart anymore..." Mama Cass' voice streamed from the record player.   
  
Bronx whimpered and tried to cover his gill-like ears with his paws.   
  
"Do you have to play that so loud?!" Hudson yelled over the music.   
  
"What?" came Brooklyn's voice.   
  
Hudson pressed the off switch. "Why aren't you on patrol with the others?"   
  
"I didn't feel like it. I'll go tomorrow night."   
  
"Is something bothering you?"   
  
"Yeah. Angela and Broadway were getting lovey dovey and it made me depressed. It seems I can't find a girl of my own."   
  
"I had trouble with the ladies once."   
  
"Yeah, right. If that were true, Goliath wouldn't even be here."   
  
"Before Sable and I officially mated, she tried to get my attention. She scratched a message on a rock and held it up for me to see. I couldn't read at the time so I thought she was teasing me. I turned my back, not realizing it said 'I love you.'"   
  
Brooklyn doubled over laughing. "A beautiful female gargoyle declares her love for you and you scorn her? Smooth move."   
  
******************************************  
  
Robyn stood on the rooftop, admiring the city below. Suddenly, she noticed something in the shadows of a neighboring building. Something with wings. She crawled closer to get a better look. Red hair, and a familiar profile. "The Demon!" she cried.   
  
TBC 


	3. What Are the Chances?

The wind blew back Robyn's blonde hair as her shaking hands reached into her jacket pocket and drew a black mask. Hesitantly, she stared at it. Jon's still out there, she thought. He could still be hunting her. What if he gets hurt -- or even killed? I ought to do what's right for my brothers and slay her now. But to rush in? Without armor? If I wait, she might escape. And who knows where she'll turn up next? I could try to approach her as Dominique Destine, but she won't fall for the same trick twice. Nay, Dunbar was right: "Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while We wear the mask." With a sigh, she slipped the black cloth over her face. Once again, she reached into her pocket again and took out a small object.   
  
It was a handheld electron pistol. Jason had told her to keep the weapon and mask as 'daily reminders of how my stubbornness blinded me.'   
  
Robyn began to stalk her prey.   
  
Demona suddenly spun around, as if she sensed the human's presence. "Your impulsiveness will cost you your life, Huntress." Her lips curled into a sneer. "Or should I say, Robyn?"   
  
"You...knew?" Robyn stammered.   
  
"Not at first. But then I noticed the similarities between the Huntress and Robin Correy. So I hacked into some computer databases. Today is a wonderful age of technology, wouldn't you say? I've been around for over a thousand years. Did you really think I'd be that stupid? I left that disk for you to find. The triple-encryption was to buy me enough time to get to the cathedral. When the plague came, you and your brothers would know who caused it."   
  
"You underestimated us."   
  
"Not really. I underestimated Goliath."   
  
Robyn drew the particle gun. "Attack me if you dare, Demon."   
  
Demona's eyes flashed as she lunged forward. Robyn fired the pistol. The blue beam struck the gargoyle at the shoulder.   
  
***************************************************  
  
Carmella stood on the curb. Why was Jason Canmore so special, improving quality of life aside? Freud was right, she thought silently. I've been subconsciously trying to heal him so I could see him outside of our patient-therapist relationship. He is what I want in a man, and there's no way we could be together now. It'd be unprofessional of me. But where would I get the money for the surgery? Or someone skilled enough to perform it? And even if I could, he'd never feel the same way about me.   
  
She hadn't noticed a car a few yards from her had stalled. The engine was dead. The one behind it, an expensive looking Newsmobile, couldn't stop, so it swerved to the right. The car tilted, the right wheels rolling onto the sidewalk.   
  
Brendan Yale slammed on the brakes. To his horror, the car wasn't stopping.   
  
"Brendan!" screamed his wife, Margot. "Stop!"   
  
"I can't," he yelled, stomping on the brake pedal.   
  
"I thought you took it to the mechanic!"   
  
"I thought you had!" Brendan closed his eyes, wondering if the impact of Auto vs. Ped sounded like a crunch or a splat.   
  
By now, Carmella had noticed the black car steering straight toward her. She tried to run, but was frozen in fear. I wonder if I'll get my picture in the paper: Therapist Run Down by ADA's Husband." Suddenly, she felt a whoosh of air. The car and street were receding -- she was in the air!   
  
Below, the car finally slowed to a stop.   
  
Margot clutched her chest. "That was a close one, right, Brendan?" No answer. "Brendan?"   
  
Carmella realized that she was in the arms of a rather plump blue creature. Too startled to scream or gasp, she let out a whimper.   
  
"Calm down," a raven-haired being whispered. "We're not going to hurt you."   
  
"I tried to move, but I couldn't," Carmella moaned. "This is so embarrassing."   
  
"Where do you want to land?" A greenish-gold gargoyle asked.   
  
"You gargoyles aren't bad at all," stammered the therapist. "Just misunderstood." She played absently with the platinum charm on her necklace. It was a gift from her great-grandmother, whom she barely knew. The nugget was large, with minimal carving. It looked like a winged creature curled up. "How grateful I am...is beyond words."   
  
Broadway landed on the rooftop and set his passenger gently down.   
  
Angela smiled. "Those words are enough."   
  
"We're just doing what we were put here to do," Lexington added.   
  
*********************************************************  
  
Macbeth felt a dull pain in his knee. He shrugged and walked a few more steps forward. The pain intensified. "Either Demona's close or rain's coming," he mumbled. A few more feet. Pain was now ripping through his side. "It's Demona." The immortal limped forward, following the pain. He climbed a nearby fire escape stairs.   
  
Demona was facing his direction, fighting a young blonde. The woman's back was to him. Demona glanced ahead, then kicked her opponent off herself, and leaped toward Macbeth, knocking him over.   
  
"Looks like we're picking up where we left off," Macbeth sneered, staggering back and falling over the fire escape rail. Quick as lightning, his hands gripped the iron bar.   
  
Demona snickered. "Remember when this was reversed?" She grabbed her enemy's hands and pried them from the bar remorselessly.   
  
Just like Father, Robyn realized as the lifeless thud came. "You monster!" Ripping off her mask, she ran down the fire escape stairs.   
  
In her haste, she failed to notice Demona was crumpling, as if her bones had suddenly snapped. The gargoyle bit back her groans of pain as she struggled to crawl to safer ground.   
  
Robyn glanced at her savior. He's rather handsome, whoever he is. She felt his wrist, checking for a pulse. Still there. He's still alive!   
  
Macbeth groaned wearily as he struggled to sit up. The impact had probably broken most of his bones.   
  
"I'll find an ambulance," the blonde said, getting up.   
  
"That won't be necessary," the immortal puffed, trying to catch his breath.   
  
"You could have internal bleeding, you stubborn old--"  
  
"Old? How old do you think I am?"   
  
Robyn looked at the stranger. Though his hair and beard were gray and his face was creased in wrinkles, he didn't seem that old. Especially the voice. He could have just aged prematurely, she thought. And it doesn't detract from his appearance. "Forty-eight?"   
  
"Thirty-five, actually." It was partially true. Macbeth had been thirty-five when the spell was cast. His youth had been magically transferred to Demona, but he had never physically aged since then. The centuries didn't affect him any more than they affected the Peter-Pan gargoyle.   
  
"Thirty-five, or not, what were you thinking?"   
  
Macbeth laughed. "I might ask you the same question..."  
  
"Robyn."   
  
"Lennox Macduff."   
  
"Well, Mr. Macduff, I'm calling an ambulance whether you like it or not."   
  
**********************************************************************************  
  
Carmella entered her apartment, locking the door behind her. The day's mail was her hand. Absently, she flipped through it. A couple bills. A late birthday card from Carson.   
  
The last envelope was intriguing. It was white, business sized. The return address was the headquarters of Xanatos Enterprises.   
  
"Why on earth would the richest man in New York want to write me?" She ripped open the envelope and unfolded a single piece of paper. It was dove-gray stock paper, stamped with a gold X at the top. Top of the line, expensive stationary. The note was handwritten in black ink:   
  
"Miss DeZevalda,   
  
I apologize for the suddenness, but I have a proposal for you. Do me a favor, and name your price. Believe me, I can afford it. All you have to do is..."   
  
Carmella stopped reading at that point and laughed. "He can't be serious!"   
  
She continued to read:   
  
"Be at the Eyrie Building at 10:00 tomorrow with the items. My assistant, Owen Burnett, will meet you in the front lobby. Believe me when I say 'What I want, I get'. Your obedient, D. Xanatos."   
  
***********************************  
  
Robyn hung up the payphone and headed back to where she had left Macbeth. "The paramedics--" She stopped. The alley was empty. "He couldn't have gotten up and walked away. I must be losing it."   
  
********************************  
  
"Is the water temperature to your liking. sir?" asked Owen.  
  
His master was in his nightly bubble bath. Only Xanatos' head was visible above the waterline. His soaking brown hair clung to his head. A yellow rubber ducky floated on the water.   
  
"It's fine, Owen."   
  
"It's a shame Governor DeZevalda is vetoing Bill 78."   
  
"Don't apologize. It passed. That's the important thing. I know Carson, and I know his weakness. It's all a matter of waiting until the time was right, and then...striking." He looked around. "Where's my toy sailboat?"   
  
***********************************  
  
At the same time, Lexington, Broadway, and Angela were gliding home.   
  
The girl looked down and something caught her eye. "You two go ahead. I'll catch up." She descended.   
  
It was Demona, limping. A sheet of paper fell from her white skirt and landed on the ground.   
  
Angela didn't dare approach -- her father would be furious. But she couldn't help sympathizing. Her mother looked badly hurt.   
  
The paper landed at the raven-haired gargess' feet. She picked it up and unfolded it. It was written in English letters, but they were in some sort of code. Each letter must have stood for another one. Angela tucked it in her dress, and climbed up a building, then glided toward the castle.  
  
*******************************  
  
Robyn threw open the door and slammed it behind her.   
  
Jason was lying on the couch, watching TV. "You could have knocked."  
  
"This is my home too."   
  
"So where have you been? I was about to go looking for you."   
  
The thought of Jason patrolling the streets of Manhattan in a wheelchair made Robyn smile. "I saw the Demon."   
  
"You what?"   
  
"We fought."   
  
Jason's blue eyes flashed. "You could have been killed."   
  
"Well, what would you have done?"   
  
"I-I don't know."   
  
"She's still out and none of us are safe until she's gone. Anyway, Jason. Let me finish. I was saved. I know this sounds really stupid and soap-operaish, but it was a really tall and handsome man."   
  
"In a black trenchcoat?" joked her brother.   
  
"As a matter of fact, yes. He seemed ready to face the Demon. It was as if he knew her. And here's the funny thing -- he was thrown off the side of a four-story building! And survived! Then I went to call 9-1-1, and he was gone!"   
  
"Maybe you have a guardian angel."   
  
"First you mention ghosts and now angels?"  
  
"Did you get a name?"   
  
"He called himself Lennox Macduff, but that just sounds phony."   
  
"Gray hair and beard?"   
  
"Yes, how'd you know?"   
  
"He was on Nightwatch a few weeks ago. Really told that pain Margot Yale off. They were debating about gargoyles."   
  
"I guess I am to blame for their exposure, but what did he say?"   
  
"That gargoyles won't attack humans unless provoked--" There was a knock on the door.   
  
Robyn got up to answer it.   
  
It was Elisa. "Hey, guys. My shift just ended. I thought I'd pop in on my way home."   
  
"Robyn met a guy," Jason blurted out.   
  
"Shut up!" squeaked Robyn. "It was for Jon's sake--"   
  
Elisa's face clouded over. "I know where Jon is. The pen."   
  
"Can you take us to visit him?" Jason asked.   
  
Robyn glanced at the window. The sun was beginning to rise. "Later today?"   
  
Elisa's expression was pained. "I have to be honest. I can take you to visit. But he's not the Jon you remember."   
  
ang do you mean?" inquired Jason, worried.   
  
"He's changed his name. Changed the way he looks. And he's dangerous. The fact that he's lost his mind may have something to do with it."   
  
"I don't care," declared Robyn. "He's still our brother."   
  
"OK," agreed Elisa. "I'll take you to see him. But only because I have a brother and sister myself."   
  
***********************************************  
  
Macbeth had returned home. Some of his wounds still ached, and he could barely walk -- but they would heal in a few hours. "I still miss the tears and laughter." But yet, it didn't hurt as much as it had earlier. As if the holes in his heart had each been filled partway. He crawled into his king-sized four-poster bed and slept soundly.  
  
************************************************  
  
(Hours later)   
  
Carmella clutched the 8x11 envelope as she went through the doors of the glass-and-steel Eyrie Building. This better not be a joke. She glanced at her watch. 9:55.   
  
Owen was waiting in the front lobby. "Miss DeZevalda, Mr. Xanatos will see you now."   
  
The therapist raised her eyebrows at the lackey's stone fist, but she wordlessly followed through the floor and into the elevator. They exited and walked down the corridor.   
  
"This is a gorgeous castle," she breathed at last.   
  
"It was originally built in the Scottish highlands during the tenth century," informed Owen. "Mr. Xanatos had it disassembled and rebuilt here."   
  
"I almost can feel energy coming out of these walls. Which is weird, since I don't usually believe in the supernatural. There are forces all around, converging in this one place. This is surely sacred ground."   
  
The butler was silent and emotionless as they reached the office.   
  
Xanatos sat at his desk. "Miss--"   
  
"I'm nobody's miss."   
  
"Do you have it?"   
  
Carmella gripped the envelope. "Yes."   
  
"Now, what does your heart desire? A diamond ring? A cruise to the Bahamas? A cottage in Vermont? A new wardrobe?"   
  
"Does this corporation dabble in making cyborgs?"   
  
"Is Walt dead? Owen, get Miss DeZevalda the file on Jacob Furman."  
  
"Yes, sir." The assistant stepped out of the room and returned with a folder.   
  
Carmella opened it. There were two photographs on top of a stack of papers. The first was of a brown-haired young man. The second was of the same man, with most of his body -- including his arms and legs -- replaced with metal. The first paper was of medical data. The other sheets were descriptions of a complicated weaponry and function system based on the spinal cord and silicon chips implanted in certain sites. "If you can turn this ordinary guy into a one-man arsenal, surely you can heal a paralytic. That's it. I want you to repair the spinal cord of one of my parents with a cybernetic system like this. Except for the weapons and only for the waist down. A patient of mine needs it."   
  
"You drive a hard bargain, but your offer is fair. Now for your end." Xanatos took the folder and flipped through its contents. "And you do deliver. Excellent." He shook Carmella's hand. "I'll have my best cybernetics specialist referred to Manhattan General."   
  
"Thank you, Mr. Xanatos. I can find my own way out."   
  
Once she was gone, Owen looked at Xanatos quizzically. "Is this a plan you've neglected to mention?"   
  
"I'll explain on the way. Get the helicopter. We're going to Albany."   
  
TBC 


	4. All in a Day's Work

Madrigal Xanatos strode confidently through the airport lobby. Anyone who compared her to her son David would know where the latter's prideful, even pompous air came from. Dressed in a feminine business suit and expensive high heels, anyone passing by would have assumed she was a CEO. A gold necklace of glittering emeralds adorned her neck, while matching earrings dangled from her ears. Her steel-gray eyes were intense, with a hint of mischievous laughter behind them. Her brown hair graced her straight shoulders, and she had the posture of a ballerina. The only indicators of her age were the gray strands in her hair and the fine lines in her face. Madrigal hailed a cab.   
  
"Eyrie Building, right?" the cabbie asked.   
  
"You note the family resemblance?" Madrigal inquired, straining to look at the driver.   
  
It was a woman, in her forties. Long, brown hair hung down her back. "Seeing your grandson. If you could have swallowed your pride. Petros doesn't hate you. And you don't hate him."   
  
Madrigal strained to see the cabbie. "Do I know you?"   
  
"Fortuna Dakotis. Lady Fortune for short."   
  
"I've never heard that name before. How do you know...are you some sort of psychic?"   
  
"No, I'm just your basic average human. David resembles you, anyway. I'm told I resemble my mother." The taxi pulled up in front of the Eyrie Building. "Ride's on the house."   
  
"Thank you," Madrigal said, climbing out. She strode through the office building, with the air of a queen. Up the elevator, to the top floor, through several corridors and finally the master bedroom. She walked straight to a small baby cradle and pulled out a stuffed giraffe from the shopping bag she had been holding.   
  
Baby Alex looked up, gazing with his bright blue eyes.   
  
Madrigal dropped the stuffed animal and picked up Alex, who cooed happily.   
  
"What are you doing with my baby?!" came a voice. A tall redhead stood in the doorway.   
  
***************************************  
  
(Albany, New York, USA)  
  
David Xanatos walked up to the secretary's desk. "Is Governor DeZevalda in?"   
  
"No, he's in a meeting," answered the secretary in a flat monotone.   
  
"Translation: he's napping." The tycoon turned to Owen and whispered.   
  
"Sir!" The butler objected. "I have limits."   
  
"Back-up plan," muttered Xanatos. He opened his rather thick wallet and waved a $100 bill under the secretary's nose.   
  
She snatched the money. "Go right in and make yourself at home." She placed a placard on her desk that read "back whenever" and waltzed out, humming "Who Are You."   
  
Xanatos opened the door. "Governor?"   
  
The governor was seated at his desk, feet up, snoring loudly.   
  
"Governor!" The businessman snapped. "WAKE UP!"   
  
Carson DeZevalda's eyes fluttered open. He was dressed in a black suit. It was hard to believe, with his heavy build and bratwurst-like fingers, that he was related to Carmella -- who looked like a sneeze could blow her over. However, the hair and facial features were practically identical. "That was a nice nap," he whined. "So, Mr. Xanatos, what brings you to Albany?"   
  
"How'd you get elected, Carson?"   
  
"I kissed a lot of babies? Seriously."   
  
"Bill 78 passed. So I decided to do a little last-minute lobbying."   
  
"Now why on earth would you want the Gargoyles Protection Act passed? Especially since I can veto the whole thing or do a line-item?"   
  
"People are getting hurt by the Quarrymen's antics."   
  
"As long as it's not me."   
  
"I thought you hated extremists."   
  
"I do. But the majority of Quarrymen were arrested or scattered in that train fiasco. If I pass that bill to squash them, the press is going to make me look like a tyrant. What's the point? Their leader's in prison, they're rapidly falling apart."   
  
"Makes you wonder why people supported Castaway in the first place."   
  
Carson leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes a leader emerges and is followed for a while. Doesn't matter what he encourages, as long as he's got style. And Castaway's got style. Not a lot of sanity, but style."   
  
"I'm told the Original Dirty Half-Dozen were like that."   
  
"I'm amazed, Xanatos. Really am. I always thought you were a savage capitalist. Machiavelli reincarnated. The kind of guy who employs people in third-world countries and pays them next to nothing for maximum profits. The kind of guy whose house looks like a rummage sale when the taxman comes to the door. I guess I was wrong."   
  
"Are you implying I'm soft?"   
  
Carson smirked. "Like a marshmallow."   
  
Xanatos leaped forward and grabbed the politician by his shirt. "I don't care if you're Walt," he hissed in Carson's face. "Unless you have a death wish, never call me soft!" He threw Carson down. "Now, what do you have against gargoyles?"   
  
"Nothing. I think they're magnificent creatures who deserve to share this planet with us. Heck, they deserve it even more than we do. But protecting them isn't going to get me into the White House, is it?"   
  
"I can make you pass it."   
  
"How? I don't take bribes."   
  
"Let's just say I know how to put the pressure on when temptation doesn't work."   
  
"Blackmail?" laughed the governor. "There's nothing in my closet but clothes."   
  
"What's worse than staining your name? Making it laughable?" Xanatos opened the envelope Carmella had given him and spread the contents on the desk. "Here's a picture of you at age two naked. And here you are at age four with a hot dog up your nostril! Oh, and here's you as a teenager with acne, thick glasses, and braces! Not to mention that awful greasy hair."   
  
The politician went cold inside. "Where did you get these?"   
  
"I can get anything I want. If you don't sign that bill right now, these pictures are going to be plastered all over the New York Times. Sign it, and the photos are yours."   
  
"You win! I'll sign it." Carson unfurled the official bill, hastily signed it, and then stamped it with the official seal of the State of New York.   
  
"Can I keep a copy?" asked Xanatos.   
  
"Fine." The governor pressed a button on his intercom. "Martha? I need a copy made." No answer. "Martha?" He groaned and turned to his copier. He placed the sheet of paper face-down, only to crush his fingers when the cover accidentally slammed down. He freed his fingers and proceeded to make a copy of the bill. "Happy now?"   
  
"Thank you, Governor." Xanatos gave his hallmark satisfied smile and left.   
  
Carson was now alone in his office. He returned to his plush chair and closed his eyes. "Being the greatest governor in the greatest state of the greatest country of the greatest planet in the universe is so exhausting." He fell asleep again. "Zzzz..."  
  
*****************************************************  
  
"You have visitors, Mr. Castaway," the guard informed as John Castaway sat at the glass booth.   
  
The blonde man looked astonished. "Jason, Robyn? What are you doing here?"   
  
"What are you doing here?" Jason answered.   
  
"Just a minor setback in the hunt. Nothing to worry about."   
  
"The gargoyles?" groaned Robyn. "Why?"   
  
"Why? Need I remind you that the Demon tried to destroy all of humanity? Or that Goliath nearly killed us all?"   
  
"Look what happened to Dad," Robyn whispered. "If you keep at it, you'll die too."   
  
"This is war, Robyn! Casualties are inevitable. I thought we were together. To back each other up no matter what! Jason, look at yourself! It pains me to look at you!"   
  
"It pains me to look at you," Jason retorted. "Don't make the same mistake I made."   
  
"You attack them," Robyn added. "They retaliate, you attack again. Where does it end?"   
  
"I won't back down. I'm fighting till the bitter end," Castaway growled. "I'm not who I used to be. Too cool and considerate. It appalls me how wimpy I used to be. If I had wiped out Goliath's clan at the clock tower, we wouldn't be having this conversation."   
  
"That's because you saw them for who they were! We didn't!" Robyn shook her head. "You can hide behind the colored contacts, plastic surgery, and mustache, but underneath it all, you're still Jonathan Canmore."   
  
"And you're still our little brother," Jason finished.   
  
"If you won't help me, you'll only hinder me." Castaway rose, then leaned toward the glass. "Oh, and in case you two were wondering, this did not go well."   
  
Elisa had listened in, but refrained from saying 'I told you so.' She was silent for most of the trip back. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry."   
  
Robyn turned to her brother. "Jason?"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Remember what you said about ghosts? I think we saw our brother's ghost today."   
  
"Yes, Robyn," Jason agreed sadly. "It seems our brother is both dead and awake."   
  
"He went mad that night," quipped Elisa.   
  
"Yes, but maybe there's a way to shock him back to reality," Robyn commented. "What did he do?"   
  
"Perjury, attempted murder, illegal possession of weapons, in no particular order."   
  
"Too dangerous to be out," Jason sighed. "Justice should be served."   
  
"Someone else's definition of justice," Robyn snorted. "Justice should be tempered with mercy, but it still have a retributive feel to it. Maybe if we defeated the Demon, Jon would have his revenge and then he'd have no reason to hunt gargoyles anymore."   
  
"Good luck," Elisa interjected. Without thinking, she added. "Not even Macbeth was successful with that--"  
  
"Who?" Jason asked.   
  
"Never mind," the policewoman quickly said.   
  
Wait a second, thought Robyn silently. Lennox and Macduff are two characters in Shakespeare's play Macbeth. I knew that name sounded phony. Now, how could a historical king of Scotland be around? Sorcery, of course. Like the Demon. They're obviously acquainted, and from the way they attacked each other, they're probably enemies...  
  
Elisa dropped the siblings off at their home, then headed to her own apartment to get some sleep.   
  
Upon arrival at the suite, the Canmore siblings found Carmella waiting in front of their door. Her cheeks were flushed. "Jason. I have unbelievable news. Your paralysis can be reversed with surgery." She handed him a brochure titled Cybernetics and You. "It's experimental, but you're in otherwise perfect health. And this particular procedure is less invasive than precious ones. Only the spinal cord will have implants to repair the nerve damage. No built-in lasers or anything weird."   
  
Robyn arched an eyebrow. "How much will this cost?"   
  
"You won't have to pay."   
  
Jason glanced through the brochure. "Is there a downside to this?"   
  
Carmella shrugged. "You'll set off metal detectors. Listen to me. You have so much more to gain than lose from this."   
  
"When do you have this planned?"   
  
"A surgeon is waiting at Manhattan General this minute."   
  
"Shouldn't he have a while to think it over?" Robyn protested. Either that girl's an angel in disguise or she's in love with my brother.   
  
Jason elbowed his sister. "I'm getting the surgery."   
  
"What?" cried Robyn. "This short notice?"   
  
"I refuse to be a burden to you, sis. Especially since my own stubbornness put you in this position. You deserve to live your own life."   
  
"It's your choice. You're so like Dad! Stubborn as a black bear!"   
  
"Carmella's right," Jason shot back. "What have I got to lose?"   
  
*********************************************  
  
(Castle Wyvern)   
  
"The photo wasn't enough," explained Madrigal. "I had to see him." Alex cooed happily.   
  
Fox shook her head. "I knew I had to meet my mother-in-law someday."   
  
"You named him well. Alexander has a bold connotation. Alexander the Great, Alexander Pope, Alexander Hamilton."   
  
Fox agreed. "A lot better than my birth name."   
  
"Which was?"   
  
The redhead made a face. "Janine."   
  
"It's a beautiful, dignified name."   
  
"It makes me sound frumpy!" Fox evaluated Madrigal's appearance. "Are those Colombian emeralds?"   
  
"Flawless Colombians. The set was designed by Cartier."   
  
"I realize where David got his expensive taste."   
  
Now it was the brunette's turn to wrinkle her nose. "You didn't think it came from Petros, did you? That man makes an ascetic monk look greedy!"   
  
**********************************  
  
(Manhattan General Hospital)   
  
Robyn squeezed her brother's hand. "Good luck."   
  
"Don't worry about me," replied Jason with a wan smile. "I survived getting shot with a laser. This should be easy." The gurney was pushed through the double doors of one of the hospital's operating rooms.   
  
Carmella was standing by a plate-glass window, staring out.   
  
Robyn joined her. "Do you do this with all your patients?"   
  
The therapist didn't answer.   
  
"Where'd you get the money to pay for this? Not your salary. Did you rob a bank?"   
  
"No. The money came from the proverbial castle in the air."   
  
"Stay away from my brother," snapped Robyn. "He's been through enough." She headed toward a pay phone and flipped open the yellow pages. Turning towards the M's.   
  
In a nearby hallway, Ann Arky strolled. It was her day to observe the surgeons at work. The last thing she wanted was a patient malpractice suit. "What's all the fuss about today?" She took a bite of doughnut.   
  
A nurse looked very excited. "A cybernetics expert is working with the surgeons to repair a paralyzed man's spinal cord!"   
  
"What?!" Miss Arky choked on her doughnut. The nurse had to do a heimleich maneuver in the middle of the hall.  
  
******************************  
  
Castaway slipped into his second-in-command's car. "It's good to be out."   
  
"It better be," replied Chester Berkeley. "We drained our treasury to bribe the parole board. You weren't supposed to be eligible for at least another ten years."   
  
"How have things been in my absence?"   
  
"Hairy. Membership is down by eighty-four percent."   
  
"Curse your 730 math SAT."   
  
The rest of the ride was silent. Chester parked his car in front of Castaway's old office and the two men went inside.   
  
"I guess we have to be more discreet now."   
  
"About that, John."   
  
"What, Chester?"   
  
"It was so much easier to ride the wave."   
  
"I beg your pardon?"   
  
"You see, thanks to the gargoyles rescuing that train, people are accepting them. We were playing on their fears. Since that fear is mostly gone, our power is substantially reduced."   
  
"You haven't turned into a gargoyle lover, have you?"   
  
"Of course not!"   
  
"Good. Go on."   
  
"I still don't love gargoyles, but I don't hate them anymore. When I first saw them on TV, I thought nothing with fangs and claws could ever be good. I was shallow and stupid. Don't you see, John? We've got to take our power back and use it in ways that make sense."   
  
John shook his head. "You're crazy."   
  
Chester handed over his Quarryman's hammer. "In case it's not obvious, I quit."   
  
"You'll be sorry for this, Berkeley!"   
  
Berkeley was already halfway out the door. "When?"   
  
"When's the date?!" John ran to his desk drawer and dug through. In a few minutes, he found a silenced pistol. Too late. There was the sound of a car peeling out of the parking lot. Castaway sank into his desk chair, put the gun back, and groaned loudly.   
  
***************************  
  
Knock, knock.   
  
Macbeth glanced at the security camera. Shrugging, he opened the door. "So we meet again?"   
  
Robyn was on the doorstep, arms crossed. "You've got some explaining to do...Macbeth."   
  
TBC 


	5. Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Author's Note: As addressed in the first set of Author's Notes, all songs mentioned are copyright their original writers, so "Time Alone" is (c) Carole King. "The Quarryman Fight Song" is to the tune of Oliver Wallace's "Der Fuehrer's Face."

Macbeth tried to keep the shock from being apparent in his facial features. "You must be mistaken, milady." He attempted to close the door.

Quick as lightning, Robyn stuck her foot in the doorway. "Don't insult my intelligence. I don't know how, I don't know why, but you factor into this equation somehow. If I could expose the gargoyles, I could expose you."

"No one will believe you," was the cold reply.

_He called my bluff. _Robyn gritted her teeth in frustration. Frustration at not having answers, frustration at that therapist, frustration at having an insane brother, frustration at having a paraplegic brother, frustration at everything. Anger and worry boiled up. Worry that Jason wouldn't survive the surgery. Worry that Jon would get himself killed. Anger that she couldn't figure out how to snap Jon out of it, anger at the Demon, anger at herself. _What would my father think? _Tears welled up in her eyes. She moved her foot from the door, but Macbeth didn't close it.

To Robyn's horror, tears were streaming down her face. Crying in front of a stranger! The harder she tried to stop the tears, the faster and more copiously they flowed.

Macbeth, who considered himself a gentleman, hated to see a lady cry. Even if she was snooping where she didn't belong. "Come in and sit down."  
-------------------------------------------

Knock, knock.

Matt stirred from his bed and checked his alarm clock. 3:30 in the afternoon. He grumpily spilled out of bed and clomped to the door, not caring he was wearing red and white striped pajamas and bunny slippers. If that's a salesman! The detective opened the door. "Mr. Xanatos? Since when do you make house calls?"

"Your partner's birthday is tomorrow night." Xanatos handed Matt the copy of the signed bill. "Consider this my gift."

"The Gargoyles Protection Act? Signed into law by Governor DeZevalda this morning? How did..."

The tycoon interrupted. "Let's just say I can be very persuasive and leave it at that. One word of advice, though. You shouldn't wear red stripes with that hair of yours." He turned to leave. "Peace, Detective Bluestone."

Matt slammed the door.  
------------------------------------------------  
Dominique Destine sat at her desk, reading three reports. She had sent three of her henchmen to discreetly spy on the three Canmore siblings. "Subject: John Castaway. Last seen arguing with former second-in-command and overseeing upgraded hammer shipment. Subject: Jason Canmore. Last seen in Manhattan General's Operating Room. Subject: Robyn Canmore. Last seen outsmarting the security system at the home of Lennox Macduff. Bad news really does come in threes." The redhead rubbed her temples wearily. "Which do I target first? The oldest? The one with the anti-gargoyle league? Or the one contacting my nemesis? I guess I better go with Robyn, considering Macbeth's the only one who can actually kill me. If only there was a way to get rid of him without killing myself in the process." Dominique indulged briefly in a daydream of knocking her fellow immortal down a bottomless pit.  
-----------------------------------------------------------  
Robyn was sitting on a couch in a beautifully finished foyer. She had finally stopped crying. "I'm so embarrassed. I rarely cry."

"What's the matter, lass?"

"Nothing," she lied.

"If it was nothing, you wouldna be crying." Macbeth was both concerned and curious.

"I just realized I'm a failure. Daddy would be so disappointed. I've got one brother in the operating room and one heading for an asylum." New tears flowed, but she could still speak.

"Your father?"

"He died. A really long time ago."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. You weren't responsible for it, so why apologize?"

"How did he die? If you don't mind telling me?"

"Cold-blooded murder. I saw him fall. I heard the murderess laugh. I couldn't save him. You can't possibly know how that feels."

"Actually, I think I do."

"Excuse me?"

"As a lad, I saw my own father plunge off a parapet at the hands of an assassin."

"Oh..." Robyn was at a loss for words. "You're certainly full of secrets."

"So are you," retorted the immortal. "How did you get past my state-of- the-art security system?"

"Are you a paranoiac?"

"No, I just hate door-to-door salesman."

Robyn burst out laughing. _I didn't expect him to be so witty._

"You're asking a lot of questions, Miss. What was your last name again?"

"Canmore," she replied.

_Canmore's descendant? _"So your encounter with a certain rabid gargoyle wasn't chance?"

"You know her. You tell me."

Macbeth sighed. "She and I were once allies. I named her Demona, because she fought like a demon. She betrayed me a long time ago, and we've been enemies ever since."

"How long? How old are you anyway?"

"I already told you. Thirty-five."

"Be serious."

"I am thirty five. I just don't age."  
-----------------------------------------------------

It was late afternoon. Elisa was sleeping in her apartment. Cagney crawled onto the bed, soothed by his mistress' peaceful breathing.

The House of Mouse ballroom was decorated beautifully. Elegant crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Elisa was in the center of the room, in a gown. She usually wasn't one for eveningwear – they inevitably included annoying slips, pantyhose, and shoes that pinched. However, this dress was comfortable. The skirt was red, and reached the floor. The bodice was white, trimmed with black. Red off the shoulder straps, black elbow- length gloves, and a white hair ribbon completed the ensemble.

Goliath, in a black and white tuxedo instead of his usual loincloth, stood before her. He was wordless, but looked happy to be there.

Several of Disney's other couples were against the walls. Mickey and Minnie. Donald and Daisy. Cinderella and Prince Charming. The young Taran and Eilonwy. The King and Queen of Hearts. Huey, Dewey, and Louie with April, May, and June. Belle in her yellow dress with fully human Prince Adam.

The strains of Carole King's "Time Alone" began to play. Goliath extended a hand. Elisa hesitated. Dance? Us? In front of everyone? Putting nerves aside, she accepted the invitation. The pair began a waltz. The song continued.

The dancers eventually broke apart. The gargoyle bowed deeply, wings unfurling. The human clutched her skirt and sank into a deep curtsy.

Elisa awoke.  
---------------------------------------------------------  
"Let me get this straight, Mr. Castaway." Ralph Berkeley, freelance hitman, began. The two men were in the halls of the office. "Chester quit earlier today?"

"Yes, and several of my blueprints, invoices, and memos are missing," Castaway growled. "He's going to the police."

"Talk about a rat deserting a sinking ship. It's not everyday I get asked to hunt down my cousin."

"Does that bother you?"

"I'm a professional. Of course it doesn't. Just bear in mind I'll be asking extra."

"We'll negotiate. And I'll double the pay if you should happen to bag any gargoyles."

_My last encounter with gargoyles ended in tears, and they weren't the little monster's_, Ralph thought. He swallowed. "It'll be a pleasure."  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
"I never did thank you for saving my life," Robyn whispered.

"Why did you try to take on Demona?"

"Remember I said my father was murdered. She did it."

"You wanted her to pay for what she did. I know this sounds hard to believe, but I know from personal experience that this is no way to handle this."

"So I'm just supposed to accept that Daddy's dead? That the Demon is roaming this world, free to kill other people?"

"How would your brothers feel if she killed you too? And there's one complication: she won't die. Not by your hand. She can't die by anyone's hand. You've probably already figured this out, so I'll be frank. Three fairies – you know them as the Weird Sisters – cast a spell on us. I've tried time and time again to slay Demona, but she slipped through my fingers. And that's the only way we'll perish."

"I haven't been completely honest with you. My family's pursued that hateful creature for generations. I always knew my ancestors were chasing a rainbow now the vendetta just seems ridiculous. Jarndyce and Jarndyce. 'Innumerable children have been born into the cause; innumerable young people have married into it; innumerable old people have died out of it!'"

Macbeth smiled. "So you're a Dickens fan. Bleak House. Good novel, but I always preferred Oliver Twist."  
------------------------------------------------------------------  
Xanatos entered his bedroom.

Fox held a finger to her lips and gestured to the baby cradle. "The prince is sleeping."

"I see you've met your grandson, Mother," Xanatos said to Madrigal. "You could have seen him earlier, if you weren't so set on avoiding Father."

"Avoiding? I don't hate your father, David. I loved him. In fact, I still do. We divorced for your happiness." She glanced at her Rolex watch. "I have to go. I don't want to overstay my welcome, and the money won't make itself." She nodded toward Fox. "I see you've chosen well." The matron turned and left.

"For a mother-in-law, she doesn't seem that bad," Fox commented once Madrigal was out of earshot.

"Goo," agreed Baby Alex, waking up. His green eyes darted around wildly. "Where Lex?"

"A little bit longer to wait," cooed the baby's mother. "David, I've been meaning to tell you. Your life would make a good book."

"A book? It's not your typical rags to riches story. The coin wasn't the only reason Dad and I had such a rift. It was the main one, but far from being the only one. My mother once teased my father by holding up a hundred-dollar bill and asking it 'How can I serve you?' Father grabbed the bill, but she wouldn't let it go. It ripped in half."

"You're making that up!" squealed the redhead.

Xanatos gave his trademark grin, opened his sock drawer, pulled out a small box, and opened it. He held up two halves of an old one-hundred dollar bill.  
---------------------------------------------------  
Jason was in the Recovery Room, sleeping off the anesthetic. He passed into REM, the dream phase.

He was standing alone. Six Quarrymen passed by, singing some sort of fight song. They were in full Quarryman uniform, sans the hoods. The first was a tall, muscular man with dirty blonde hair. The second was a skinny woman with wild auburn hair. The third Jason recognized as Pat Doyle, former mayoral candidate. The fourth was the lawyer, Margot Yale. He didn't recognize the fifth, a tall and lanky man with a brownish mop of hair. Or the sixth, a plump blonde matron. The quintet marched on, the notes of their anthem becoming audible with each step.

_"When Castaway says, they are an evil race," _the six singers chorused.

"_We cheer, cheer! Right in Castaway's face! _

_Not to hate the others is a great disgrace, so we cheer! Cheer! Right in Castaway's face! _

_When Sir Doyle says, 'We own the city's space', we cheer! Cheer! Right in Sir Doyle's face! _

_When Margot Yale says, 'They'll never bomb this place!', we cheer, cheer! Right in Mrs. Yale's face!" _

"_Are we not the Quarrymen?" _yelled the first marcher.

"_Superhero Quarrymen!" _added Doyle.

"_Ja, we are the Quarrymen," _the second said with a smirk.

"_Super-duper Quarrymen!" _all six chimed together.

"_Is this island so good?" _sang the first in line. _"Would you leave it if you could?" _

"_Ja, this island is good!" _replied the others.

"_We wouldn't leave it if we could!" _the fifth added.

"_We bring New York to order," _cried Margot Yale.

"_Hail Castaway's new order!" _cheered the sixth, waving a flag with the Quarryman hammer emblem.

"_All the gargoyle race will fear Castaway's face," _all six were now in tandem.

"_When we bring to New York dis order!" _The notes faded into the night.

Robyn was in front of Jason now, glaring. "This is all your fault!" Her voice echoed. "Your fault...your fault...your fault..."

"Brother, help me!" It was Jon's voice. The old Jon, gentle and rational. Not the angry, obsessive tone Jason had heard him use in the jail cell. The blonde man was chained to a wall. He looked just as he did before going mad. "Help me!" Before his brother's eyes, Jon transmuted into John Castaway. The chains faded. The voice had changed back to the hateful tone. "Help me finish what you started."

A line of about twenty anonymous Quarrymen passed by, hammers glinting. Their hoods fell away, revealing skulls.

"What did I ever see in you?" Elisa's voice came from nowhere. "Morally depraved creep."

"I'm sorry!" Jason whispered, looking around for the detective. A dark- haired, mustached figure was in his line of vision. "Father!" He ran toward Charles and reached to touch him. His hand went clean through.

"You've failed me, Jason," the ghost hissed.

"Father! Please! Wait!" But Charles faded into nothingness. Now the former Hunter was surrounded by Goliath and his clan. They weren't attacking, or growling. Just standing in a ring, glaring at him. Suddenly, they parted before him like leaves before a dry wind.

Jason could see a life-size portrait. It was of John Castaway, clad in Quarryman's armor. His face was distorted in an expression of pure hate, but that's not what made its beholder's blood curdle. The facial features were what Jason saw behind the Plexiglas, but the hair was raven, not golden blonde. And Castaway was taller, wider, heavier.

It was himself. His hair was slicked back and his own piercing blue eyes had replaced Jon's brown contacts.

"Yes," came another voice. "Don't you remember? The only good gargoyle is a dead gargoyle..."

"Stop!"

But the voice was his, too. It was the voice of Reason, furious at being dominated by rampant Emotion for so long.

"I'm sorry," Jason sobbed. "I made a mistake."

"But you're not the one paying for it," retorted the bone chilling voice. "You're not the one paying for it." It echoed.

The first line of Quarrymen marched by, only Margot Yale and the fifth member were missing. They were still singing:

_"When Castaway says, 'We'll never live in fear!', _

_We cheer, cheer! But still we spread fear! _

_When Castaway yells, and lies and rants and raves, _

_We hail, hail! And risk going to our graves! _

_When Castaway yells, 'I gotta have more shells!' _

_We cheer, cheer! For him we get more shells _

_If one little shell should blow him right to (ding!) _

_We cheer, cheer! And wouldn't that be swell? _

_To not hate the others is a great disgrace, so we cheer! Cheer! Right in Castaway's face! _

_We cheer, cheer, Right in Castaway's face..."_

The dreamer awoke with a cry. He bolted upright in the hospital bed.

Carmella was seated next to the bed. "Jason? Are you okay? You're white as a sheet."

"I'm fine," he answered hastily. "Just a bad dream."

"You're covered in sweat."

"How long have you been sitting there."

"Since you got out of the OR."

Jason glanced out the window. The sun had apparently set while he was asleep. "Aren't visiting hours over?"

"The ward nurses got food poisoning...all five of them. Apparently they shared a bad shrimp. I volunteered to monitor you."

The former Hunter found the button on the bed that lowered the bed rail. Once they receded, he let his legs slip over the edge. They're actually responding! He let his feet touch the ground, and wobbled uneasily, nearly pitching forward. He clutched the chair.

"What are you doing?" Carmella squeaked.

"Seeing if the surgery worked."

"Yeah, but you haven't walked for two months!" The therapist leaped up and clutched her patient. "You didn't think you could actually get up and walk out of the hospital."

"It was a long shot, but I was hoping I could. My back's numb."

"Understandable. The anesthetic."

"Carmella?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For everything."  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"I can't stand that play," Macbeth shook his head. "I'm a wimp, Duncan's an angel, need I say more? You have no idea how much I wanted to tell Shakespeare what I thought."

Robyn was about to reply when her cell phone rang. "Pardon me." She answered it. "Hello?"

It was Elisa. "Robyn, your brother's been released from prison."

"What! I thought you said he was in for attempted murder."

"He was. I guess the Quarrymen infiltrated or bribed the parole board. Or the board could have gotten drunk. Who knows? Do you know where Jason is?"

"The hospital. His therapist apparently got him surprise cybernetic surgery."

"That's not available to the general public, is it?"

"No. At least, not yet. You'd have to ask her the details. Why did you call?"

"I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about what happened. Castaway had no right to treat you two like that. And I have to be honest. I will be watching him."

"Ordinarily, I'd make a crack on being Big Sister, but I'm curious to know why you want my opinion."

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable."

"Why would I be uncomfortable? You're just doing your job. Just do me a favor."

"What?"

"Don't hurt my cruel and unhappy brother unless it's absolutely necessarily." Robyn pressed end on the cell phone and set it on the coffee table. "My younger brother's out of jail. I suppose you've seen him on TV. He changed his last name to Castaway."

"Oh, yes, I've seen his Quarryman commercials. It never ceases to amaze me how some people are like sheep."

Robyn glanced at her watch. "It's getting late. I wanted to visit my older brother, but visiting hours are over. I better get home." She got up. "I'm sorry I wasted so much of your time."

"Oh, no. I actually enjoyed talking to you."

I actually enjoyed it too, she thought, but didn't dare say out loud. "Good night, Macbeth." It felt weird addressing him by his real name.

"Good night, lassie."

Robyn walked out the foyer, through the front hall, and out the door. She didn't realize she had left her cell phone on the table.  
--------------------------------------------------------  
At Castle Wyvern, Hudson was watching TV and snacking on ice cream. Bronx waited around the chair to lick up any drips from the elderly gargoyle's spoon.

Angela was sitting on the floor. She had copied the coded message from the piece of paper she found in the alley. Even knowing her mother's nature, the girl was certain that the paper contained something meant for her.

"Isn't this a funny show, lassie?" Hudson turned toward her.

"Oh. I'm not really watching. I'm working on a puzzle."

"A crossword?"

"More like a cryptogram."

"I'm only good at crosswords. Try Lex if you need help. He's playing with the wee laddie."

Robyn had taken a cab to Central Park to compose her thoughts and take a shortcut to her apartment.

"Hey, blondie! You're the one thousandth person to walk by today!" A vendor at a snack cart called out. She had long brown hair and wore an apron over simple clothes. It was Lady Fortune. "You get a free bottled water."

"Oh." Robyn glanced at the bottle of water. "Thank you." She shrugged, opened the water and drank. Arriving at her apartment, she yawned, feeling sleepy all of a sudden. The young woman crawled into bed and fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

She began her own dream. She was in a small room with no windows, just painted white walls. A few chairs were scattered around. What looked like a wall-mounted big screen television covered one side. A figure stood by the only door.

Robyn recognized her. The same chestnut-haired woman at the park. "You slipped something in the water, didn't you?"

"Just a milligram of melatonin," cooed Lady Fortune. "I couldn't talk to you directly, so I had to make do."

"Why?"

"Let me start from the beginning." Lady Fortune glowed golden. The glow faded. "Now you see me as I really am." The woman was the same height, but she had changed dramatically. Her skin was pale, almost white – with a tinge of blue. Her attire was now a glittering white dress. A woven crown of edelweiss and snowdrops adorned her brown hair. "I have many names, but mortals call me the Snow Queen. I have forgotten my age, but I suspect it's very great."

"You're a fairy tale."

"Oh, I'm real." The Snow Queen shoved her audience into one of the plush armchairs. "I was born when Lord Oberon and Lady Titania touched a block of ice. But this isn't about me. It's about you."

"As interesting as that sounds, I must decline."

"Hey, I did not materialize in your subconscious just so you could run away! You're not waking up anytime soon, so just listen to what I have to say."

Robyn conceded the point. "Go ahead."

The fairy continued. "Oberon decreed that no mortal would ever marry me. A little bit over a millenium ago; our king banished us from our home of Avalon. He told us we needed a humility lesson. So we departed and scattered around the Earth. I found a mountain in the place humans call Switzerland. My attendants built an ice palace. Countless men would climb the summit to ask my hand in marriage. I always made it known that I would never marry a mortal, but they came anyway. As soon as each suitor would declare his love, my attendants would push him over the rocks. And I would watch. Emotionlessly."

"But you're just magic and ice. How could you have emotion?"

"Smart girl. I didn't have any emotion. Until something happened. A man came to my palace. He was different from the others. Much younger. And more handsome. All he could do was gaze at me. I let him stand there, since he didn't propose marriage. After several days, I didn't want to admit that I would like to marry him. My servants were worried that Oberon would find out, so they surrounded my love and threw him over the edge." Tears dripped from her eyes. "I tried so hard to stop them. I dismissed my minions. Then I cried – for the first time in my life. My first tear hit the snow. I had finally learned humility. A flower grew where my tear fell. An edelweiss, which always grows between pinnacle and abyss." She touched her crown. "I wear these as a reminder of what might have been."

"And snowdrops," observed the blonde. "The first flowers to poke out of the winter snow. Symbols of optimism. They were my mother's favorites."

"Very good, but let me finish." The fairy continued her narrative. "I had finally felt emotion. I began to lure children to my palace so I could watch them at play. In their underdeveloped minds, they're just beginning to learn logic and reason. Emotion pretty much controls them. But sooner or later, they'd leave me. I couldn't hold them against their will. We're not allowed to directly intervene in human affairs. Anyway, I'm here to reacquaint you with memories from your childhood." Soft music wafted in the room. "Sound familiar?"

"You know it does," Robyn crossed her arms. "It's Tchaikovsky's 'Lullaby in a Storm.' My father gave me a music box for my birthday every year until he died. That was the tune the last one played."

"Let's test your sense of smell," the fay goaded.

Robyn sniffed the air. "Father's favorite cologne." The Snow Queen handed her a pair of small objects. They were gold, engraved with the family's coat of arms. "My father's cufflinks. He was always losing them and then finding them in the funniest places."

Images were going across the television screen. Baby Jon smearing pudding across the kitchen wall, Jason and Robyn riding a roller coaster, ten year old Robyn beating up a bully for making Jon cry.

"Please, stop," the young woman whispered.

"Do you remember your father's death?" asked the Snow Queen.

"Enough to wish I didn't."

"Life is nothing but memories, and even bad memories have a place in a good life. You grieved. But that grief quickly turned into coldness. Little to no emotion, though you still loved your brothers."

"They were all I had left."

"And when Jason suggested to put on the Hunter's mask, you followed. Jon was reluctant, but it was two against one. But did you ever hate gargoyles in general?"

"Just the Demon."

"Yet you blew up a building."

"Jason was determined to eliminate them, and I would rather have done it quickly. It was wrong."

"Remorse. Another human emotion."

"When Jason fell over the falls, I felt it was pointless. But Jon insisted on vengeance, and look what happened. I guess violence and revenge really is a cycle."

"And you don't want to repeat it."

"No."

"See? Your emotion's coming back. Your older brother's going to be okay."

"No thanks to that wench Carmella DeZevalda."

"You're jealous."

"She's just a spoiled brat who thinks she can have any man she wants. Probably because her brother's the governor."

"Robyn, Robyn, Robyn. Your IQ is well over one hundred and fifty, but your EQ is in the negatives. Jason can find love, so why can't you?"

"Love is a myth engineered by wedding planners, candy companies, and capitalism."

"What about Macbeth?"

"What about him?"

"How did you feel when you talked?"

"Relieved, relaxed. Safe, secure. I felt I could be open. And he made me laugh a few times."

"Are you really this emotionally tone-deaf? You're in love."

"In love? Me? Don't be ridiculous."

"You've been attracted to him since the altercation."

"I was concerned about his safety. There's a difference."

"Love doesn't always mean hearts in the eyes. You wouldn't just open up to anyone, and neither would he."

"There must be some logical explanation."

"Don't try to analyze it, dear. It's magic – and not the fay-produced kind."

"Speaking of fay, don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Oh, that. Oberon called us all back to Avalon but after a millenium of living in the Alps, I was uncomfortable in the island's perpetual summers. I begged my king and queen to let me leave. Oberon consented. I sailed for Switzerland, but I ended up in New York. Avalon sends you where you need to be."

"You think you were sent here to help me?"

"Not quite. Queen Titania married a human during the Dispersion and bore a hybrid child. I thought my mission had something to do with my half-sister, but I couldn't directly approach her. So when she went shopping, I sabotaged her limo. Fox took the subway and I created." The Snow Queen transmuted back to her human form. "Fortuna Dakotis. I used a little memory therapy to get Fox to think about how she's grown as a person. I guilt- tripped her about her past. I made her glad she had changed. Change. It's the only way we grow. I'm living proof."

"So you've done this sort of thing before," Robyn observed.

"Only twice, actually. After my encounter with Fox, I heard that her mother- in-law was coming to visit. So I intercepted her at the airport. Milder, but Madrigal Xanatos had some delicious food for thought."

"Why me? I've never even met your half sister."

"You reminded me of myself. All head and no heart. Don't make the same mistake I made. I've got all the time in the world. You don't. It's not too late for you." Lady Fortune reverted to her Snow Queen form and kissed Robyn's forehead. "I can't force you to do anything, child. You have to choose." With that, the ethereal fairy vanished. The room seemed to fade into blackness.

Robyn awoke. "Choose what, though?" She glanced at her clock. 10:06 PM.

There was a crash, and the sound of glass shattering.

To Be Continued


	6. What the world needs now

At the noise, Robyn leaped out of bed and shoved her feet into her shoes, then ran down toward the living room.

The glass door leading to the balcony was broken. Demona herself crossed the carpet, shards crunching under her feet. "Not so smug without the mask, Huntress?"

"I don't need it," Robyn replied, reaching for a silver candlestick. "I want this vendetta over with. You follow us, we follow you. I'm sure you're sick of it."

"Oh, it will end." Demona's smile seemed reminiscent of a hardhearted judge. "With your blood on my claws."

Robyn slowly backed away. "Be rational, Demona." She was addressing her enemy by name for the first time. "If you were mortal, I'd have already attacked."

"Then you know struggling is futile."

"Why can't you leave us alone? I wish I could kill you, but I can't and nothing can change that. You've been human. You know what lawsuits are. I want to settle."

"Me too. But I'll only settle for the deaths of you and your remaining family."

_This is useless! She can't be reasoned with! _Robyn tested the weight of the candlestick in her hands, trying to keep her voice calm. After all, Daddy had always said 'Never let them see you sweat.' "So where's your weapon?"

"For a job this special, I've decided to use my bare claws. I doubt you want details—"

Robyn leaped forward and struck Demona on the temple with her candlestick. _If I could just knock her out. _Demona let out a snarl and leaped forward, pinning Robyn to the floor. The blonde kicked the gargess off her. The redhead slashed at her opponent's thigh with her claw.

Just outside the door, Jason was inserting his key into the lock while balancing on crutches.

Carmella was standing beside him. "You know this is against my better judgment."

"My sister won't answer my calls," Jason retorted. "Something must be wrong." The door swung open.

_Two birds with one stone_, Demona thought in delight. _And the oldest is on crutches. This is almost too easy!_

"Carmella," Jason hissed. "There's a laser pistol in the desk to your right. Grab it."

The therapist nodded and reached into the drawer. She pulled out the gun, cocked, and aimed. The beam missed by a full foot, but it distracted the redhead long enough for Robyn to get to her feet and land a jaw punch.

Jason hobbled over and poked Demona in the back with one crutch while balancing on the other.

Carmella fired again. It missed, but the beam had been closer. _Oh, why didn't I take archery instead of needlepoint!_

A growl escaped Demona's mouth as she knocked over one of the crutches. Then she turned on Carmella and grabbed the pistol, crushing it in her claws. The therapist, unskilled at hand-to-hand combat, could only stare.

"Leave her alone, Demon!" Jason scrambled to his feet.

Demona spat in the general direction of the Canmore siblings, then backed out through the broken door. "Enjoy your reprieve!" Retreating was a necessary embarrassment, she figured. Since three on one wasn't good odds and someone was bound to hear the noise.

All the color had drained from Carmella's face. "I think I better go now." She got up and closed the apartment door behind her.

Robyn guided her brother to the sofa and sat down next to him.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked.

The blonde glanced at her right leg. The fabric of her pants had been ripped mid-thigh, revealing an ugly two-inch laceration. "A scratch. It's not that deep." She was going for my femoral artery, Robyn dimly realized. "Isn't there a recovery period for the surgery?"

"Hospital was short on beds and had a bunch more critical patients to fill them. This is New York. Besides, if I hadn't gotten here..."

"I know."

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Do you blame me for Jon's sudden madness?"

"Of course not. You tried to talk him out of it. It's all the Demon's fault. If she hadn't fired, Jon wouldn't have panicked."

Jason sighed. "You're right." He frowned. "I was unconscious most of the afternoon and I'm still exhausted."

"It's been a long day. I'll help you get to bed."

The NYPD had just stopped a bank robbery, although they were too busy leading away the perpetrators and collecting statements to notice the 'gargoyle assistance.'

Matt waited until everyone had left before going to the bank rooftop.

Goliath was waiting. "Evening, Bluestone."

The detective pulled out a flat package. "Have you decided what to get Elisa?"

"Still haven't the foggiest idea."

"Her birthday is tomorrow night!"

"I know. It's just that I've never done this before."

"How about a song?"

"Dancing I can do, but singing is another subject. Did you get the card?"

Matt handed over the card and pulled out another. "I get Elisa the rudest kind of cards. She thinks it's hilarious, but I figured you'd want something more sentimental."

A third card fell out of the package and fluttered to the rooftop.

The detective snatched it back up. "For my aunt. She has a birthday this month too."

Goliath didn't look convinced. "It wasn't a birthday card. It said 'Thinking of you' and had hearts and cherubs on it."

"OK," admitted Matt. "It's for my love interest. I saw it in Hallmark and I couldn't resist. But don't tell anyone."  
------------------------------------  
Angela felt triumphant. After several translation attempts, she had finally untangled the cryptogram. She recognized it. Simon and Garfunkel's "I Am a Rock." _Why on earth would her mother be carrying a copy of an old song, written in code? It must have meant something to her. Maybe it's how she feels? Alone? "If I never loved..." Was that referring to Father, or Thailog? Father, most likely. Thailog could have been rebound over Father. How could I have missed that? _Confident, she folded up the original and the translation together and stuck them in one of the desk drawers. _This is how the archaeologists felt when they found the Rosetta Stone. _

Ralph was in a phone booth. Coincidentally, it was the same phone booth Maxwell had used. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed the number to Castaway's office. A few passers by stopped and glanced in, wondering why someone would be so redundant, but forgot as soon as they turned away. Even without a stealth suit, Ralph was a master of avoiding attention. Nobody noticed when he entered or left a room. As a schoolboy, he would sneak into the teachers' lounge without anyone knowing. The hitman was wanted on six continents, but so far no one had been able to positively identify him. As a result, he had earned the nickname "The Invisible Man."

The phone rang six times before Castaway picked up. "Ralph, this better be good news!"

"I'm not one to sugarcoat bad news, and you know it. I went by Chester's apartment. Everything's gone. The landlord said he had cleared out in a hurry. No forwarding address. He did leave one thing for you."

"What?"

"An envelope containing a blank card. And you know what that means. You've got nothing."

"He's taunting me."

"But my gut says he hasn't left town yet." There was the sound of chewing on the other end of the line. "Mr. Castaway, am I interrupting your dinner?"

"I apologize. The frustration's making me ruin my diet. Now get on the ball. And don't worry about gargoyle interference. I've got the Secret Weapon." Castaway patted a small glass box on his desk. Inside was a silver cuff the size of a watchband.

"It hasn't been tested yet, has it?"

"No. And quit wasting time."

"Over and out."  
--------------------------------------------  
Ralph's gut had been right. Chester Berkeley hadn't skipped town yet, due to unforeseen circumstances. Namely, a phone call from his old boss. The archaeologist was currently in New York's Museum of Humanities, walking toward the curator's office. Not even his own mother would have recognized him in sunglasses, a false beard, and a floppy hat. You didn't cheese off a fanatic gargoyle hunter and stick around without taking some precautions. He knocked on the door and found it open.

His former boss looked up, surprised. "Who are you?"

Chester removed the disguise. "It's me. This better be good. I missed my flight to Guatemala two hours ago because of your call."

"First things first. What's with the getup?"

The reply was sarcastic. "Makeover."

"Good! Now you can have a new job in addition to the new look!"

"A job? At a site?"

"Yup. In Guatemala."

"I had just taken a job there with the Central American Rainforest Preservation Society. Why is my life so full of irony?"

"Forget those tree-huggers, Chester. You'll have a whole Mayan site to yourself."

"Tikal?"

"Nope. Close, though."

Chester's heart sank. "It wouldn't happen to be the one Christopher Bell was excavating, would it?"

"Ding-ding-ding! What do you win?"

"In case you don't remember, Bell was found dead three years ago. Shot in the back. And the site had been plundered and vandalized. Doesn't seem that appealing."

"Just last week, a couple of smugglers were arrested at the Mexico-US border. One of the guns confiscated matched the caliber of a bullet pulled from Christopher Bell's back, so ballistics did a test-fire. A perfect match. The smugglers were questioned, and they admitted to selling stolen artifacts on the black market. Which brings me to why I'm rehiring you. With a twenty percent raise."

"Why, pray tell?"

The curator pointed to a beautiful sun-shaped carving inlaid with precious stones on his desk. "I went through all the museum's pieces and found the provenance documents on this one were less than satisfactory. This is stolen property, and you know what that means?"

"You send it back to its country of origin."

"Close." The curator held up a notebook. "Here are Bell's notes, dated a few days before he died." There was a sketch that was no doubt of the amulet on the desk. "He found this in the wall of a pyramid on this site."

"Hold it," interrupted Chester. "You want me to courier this to Guatemala City?"

"Oh, no. The Guatemalan government could care less about the country's archaeological history. You're going to return El Sol to the site itself."

"And then what?"

"What else? Take glyph rubbings, photos, map the site. Choose what to excavate next. It was your instinct that found us that tomb in Uxmal."

"By myself!"

"You'll have your HAM radio and there's a town only thirty miles away."

Chester sighed.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. I'd be thrilled to have the whole place to myself!"

"But what about the violence?" growled Chester.

"Oh, pooh. I'm not sending you to Colombia! Now that's dangerous!"

"Fine. I'll do it."

"Good. Your flight's tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night! Can't I go tonight?"

"What's the hurry? Go home, get some rest. Spend the day enjoying the East Coast weather tomorrow because you know how warm and sticky it can get in the jungle."

Chester pulled on his disguise. "And to think I wrote a recommendation for you to win the Archaeologist of the Year award!"  
------------------------------------------------------  
Macbeth was atop one of the parapets of Castle Wyvern. Going into the Eyrie Building had been easy. Getting past Xanatos had been harder, but the immortal Scottish king had the stealth of a jungle cat. He glanced at the sky. A couple hours before sunrise. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the cell phone Robyn had left at his home. It had rang twice, playing an instrumental version of the Moody Blues hit "Go Now" but he thought it too rude to answer someone else's phone.

Twenty minutes later, Goliath himself landed on the battlement. "Macbeth? What on earth are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to speak to you."

The clan leader looked at him quizzically. "About what?"

"The advice you gave me in Paris."

"What of it?"

"I think I've found someone, but I'm not sure what to do. There's no statute that says I can't date a descendant from a first cousin once removed."

"I doubt it's ever come up before, but continue."

"I actually looked up the genealogy records on this. Robyn Canmore is descended from Canmore, who killed my only son. And his father had my father murdered. How could I love anyone descended from those two monsters?"

"Are you blaming Robyn for something that happened over nine centuries before she was born?"

"Of course not."

"Just listen to your heart. You don't want to live alone. You've said so yourself. How did she make you feel?"

"Even though she asked me some sensitive questions?" Macbeth shrugged. "Better than I've felt in a long time. She was pretty frank with me and I felt I could be honest with her. She understood me. And people as a whole don't understand me. Sure, they write twenty page thesis statements on my character, but it's based on the Shakespeare play as opposed to what actually happened. Call me vain, but I've read thousands of history books and what I've found about my historical self can be written on a post-it note. I admit the play is a very well-written piece of work, but no one even says the name out loud!"

"Leo Tolstoy once said 'All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love.'"

"You're well-read, Goliath, but will the line stretch to the crack of doom?"

"Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds," replied the gargoyle. "Or bends with the remover to remove."

Macbeth snorted. "Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,"

The two said the last line three lines of the sonnet together: "But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd."

"There's your answer," Goliath said with a dry smile.

"I get the point. But it's not as easy as it sounds. Would any girl love an immortal? I'll outlive her, and I'll end up alone again."

"You're just using that as an excuse."

"Have you ever been in a situation this awkward?"

"Does falling in love with a human count?" Silence. "I once had a dream of sorts."

"Gargoyles dream?" Macbeth asked.

"Actually, yes. We're completely paralyzed in stone sleep, but we're semi- conscious beneath the skin. Random thoughts and feelings pass."

"The gargoyle version of REM sleep. So what about this dream?"

"It happened at night, actually. I was thrown into some sort of parallel universe. I was human. Elisa and I were married. We even had children. But it wasn't what I thought life would be if we were the same species. It was so...awkward and superficial. Needless to say, I prefer the forms we were born in. I can't speak for Elisa, but I think she loves me for who I am. I know you've endured a lot of heartache in your life."

"That's putting it mildly. You can't possibly know what I've endured! I lost my love, my son, my kingdom. In a figurative sense, my life. All in one night. If I could have died then, I would have."

"I know how hard it is to keep on going , when promises turn to lies. I lost most of my family in one night too. I've been a victim of Demona's trickery. I loved her once, though. She was my Angel. But she's changed so much since then. As if she's removed her heart and replaced it with a stone. I thought for a while I could change her back, but what good did it do me?"

"I guess there are some promises she just can't keep," observed Macbeth acidly. After a moment, he asked, "Do you still think about her?"

"I try not to, or else I'll go crazy. Once in a while I wonder what would happened if things had turned out different. I might have said 'She's the one.'"

"I keep wishing I could change the past. If I had killed Canmore, or at least banished him to the most distant locale I could think of. Or if I hadn't made the deal with the Weird Sisters. I've even considering going Faust."

_I haven't seen him this vulnerable since Demona turned most of the New York human population into stone, or the brief moment I snapped him out of the Archmage's spell. _"That desperate?"

Bitter laughter. "I've bargained my youth away. Why not my soul?"

"I've felt that way too. Over a thousand years ago. My remaining clan members were stone forever, I thought my mate was dust, and I couldn't bear the thought of raising thirty-six children by myself. For a second, I thought I could fling myself from the castle parapets."

"What stopped you?"

"I remembered my remaining clan members were still alive under the stone. So I asked the Magus to cast the spell on me. He and the Princess promised to raise the eggs. That was a promise they kept."

"So that's how you knew to choose life instead of death."

"I wish the massacre had never happened. But you can't change the course of history. I know. I've tried. All we can do is accept it and make the best of the present. You've been dealt a lot of injustice, Macbeth, but you can dwell on it forever. If you keep carrying that anger, it'll eat you inside."

"It almost did."

"Robyn's got a grudge against Demona, too. Maybe you can learn to let it go together. Isn't it in forgiving that you're forgiven?"

"It makes sense."

"Why did you come to me for advice?"

"You were the only one who would have understood. Why?"

"Seeing as you and I really got off on the wrong foot. I never did thank you for defending us in the television interview."

"You saw it?"

"No, but I read about it in a newspaper."

"You're welcome. I better go now." Macbeth straightened out his trenchcoat and turned away.

Little did he know that there had been some eavesdroppers on the conversation.

Lexington pulled his ear from the wall and cuddled Alex. "Macbeth likes Robyn Canmore?"

Angela was reading a book titled _What To Do When Your Parents Don't Agree on Anything_. "I hope she likes older men."

TBC


	7. Seven and Twenty Five

The day passed uneventfully. The sun descended to the west.

Now that night had fallen, Goliath swooped through New York, looking for any signs of trouble. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a woman waving to him from a rooftop. In the fog that was rolling in, he thought it might be Elisa. Upon landing, however, he could see it wasn't. She was dark-haired, but weightier than the detective – though not much taller.

It was Carmella DeZevalda, though the clan leader did not know her name. "Thank you," she said.

"For what, Miss?" replied Goliath.

Carmella reached into the pocket of her windbreaker and drew out a large, silver-colored nugget. "If your friends didn't intervene when they did, I might not be standing here."

"You don't have to give us anything in return. Gargoyles have no use for money."

"But I want to."

"Platinum's worth a lot of money, isn't it?"

"My brother owns several mines. He gives me these for free. You're not burdening me by taking it."

"Save it."

"Take it!"

Goliath looked at the woman. He had never seen her before, and wondered what this could mean. The fog was getting thick and dark clouds blocked the moon. A storm was coming, and he didn't want to waste time arguing with this strange human.

"It would mean a lot to me," the woman said at last.

Goliath took the chunk of platinum finally. As he received it, he noticed the charm around Carmella's neck – but she turned to the roof access stairs and retreated inside, leaving the lavender gargoyle alone.

The nugget was very large and firm, easily four ounces. The clan leader's first impulse was to throw it in the gutter, but stopped. It might hit someone below. He certainly wasn't going to keep it. Perhaps put in the lap of one of the many homeless vagrants. Goliath had no idea how much it was worth; only the fact humans valued platinum worth more than gold. Why would the woman have just given him the treasure? She didn't seem rich – she lacked the mannerisms of, say, Fox. She looked more middle-class. Like Elisa.

He remembered it was Elisa's birthday and his appointment with Matt. An idea came to mind. He glided as fast as he could to the police station.

Matt was waiting on the fire escape. "Good thing Elisa and I are stuck in the office doing paperwork. I gave her my card already. Now's the moment of truth."

"Can you go to the jewelers?"

"Yeah. Elisa sent me out to get some dinner for us. I just have to make it quick, or else she'll get suspicious. Is everything else ready?"

"Yes. Lexington is over there right now."

"Good. What did you want from the jewelers?"

Goliath told him.

Matt nodded. "Nice idea, but how are you going to pay for it?" He looked at the platinum nugget. "Where did you get that?"

"A woman just gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Without some sort of ulterior motive? That's strange, especially in New York. It's everyone for his or her self here."

"Forget the Quarrymen, Bluestone. Humans are more puzzling when they're kind."

XXX

Across the island of Manhattan, in a hotel room, Chester Berkeley was checking his two small carry-on bags. He had already checked out. He'd take a cab to the airport a few hours ahead of time and blend in until the flight. The amulet he carried was locked in his briefcase, wrapped in tissue paper to keep it from sliding around.

Little did he know he was being watched.

Ralph stood outside the door, his ear to the wall. He had expected his mark to be halfway to Timbuktu by now, but he had gotten lucky. Before he had to renew his false ID'ed passport, he had stopped for a quick cup of coffee in one of New York's many cafes. By sheer coincidence, a man was ordering a "plain black coffee with no sugar, nonfat milk, and chocolate shavings." Only his cousin ordered black coffee with chocolate! From there, it was an easy matter of tailing at a safe distance.

But even a skilled assassin got impatient. Ralph took a credit card out of his wallet and slid it between the doorjamb and the frame. The door opened easily and silently. _No wonder New York has such a crime rate! And I thought it was crooks like me! _

The color drained from Chester's face.

"Did you think you could leave without saying goodbye?" The assassin asked calmly.

"Let me guess. Castaway sent you out to kill me."

"Partial credit. He sent me to bring you alive. I don't get paid if you're dead, so don't even try to make this difficult."

"No love lost between cousins, huh?"

Ralph laughed bitterly. "My side's the smarter of the family."

Chester backed away. "You won't shoot. You wouldn't dare." He grabbed a heavy porcelain lamp and threw it.

The hitman dodged it effortlessly, dove forward and brought the butt of his sniper rifle on Chester's head. The latter staggered back and threw open the sliding glass door to a balcony.

"Why couldn't you lie to Il Duce?" Chester demanded, gripping the balustrade. "Say you couldn't find me?" He was unaware of the winged shadows watching from the roof.

"Sorry, cousin," was the reply. "But I don't help traitors." The assassin clubbed his prey once again. This time Chester was knocked out.

"Does he sound familiar?" Broadway whispered to Angela.

"It's the Invisible Man," she replied. "I'd know his voice anywhere."

That was good enough for Broadway. He leapt down onto the concrete balcony. "Back for more?"

"My stealth suit may be in the shop getting upgraded, but I can still take you," Ralph sneered, firing his rifle. However, the balcony was only about four feet by two feet. The assassin could only level the rifle enough to nick one of Broadway's ears.

The large gargoyle grabbed the barrel of the rifle and crushed it in his claws while Angela tried to pick up the unconscious Chester.

Not to be deterred, Ralph tossed a magnetic disk. It landed on Broadway's shoulder and delivered a mild shock. Angela attempted to grab Ralph from behind, but he spun around too fast and fired a tranquilizer dart from a miniature blowgun in his sleeve. Broadway managed to pull the disk off himself and toss it away, only to be hit by another dart. Both gargoyles collapsed.

Ralph bent and grabbed Broadway's arm. His arm muscles screamed in protest. "Yeowch! The fat one's way too heavy. Oh well. The other one's much more important." He slipped back into the hotel room, scribbled a note on a piece of stationery, folded it up, and tucked it in Broadway's stiffened claw.

XXX

At the same time, the Canmores were driving back home after a post-operation check-up. Jason stared dimly out the window.

Robyn broke the silence. "I don't understand."

"What?" her brother answered.

"I thought you'd be happy to be able to walk again. Well, walk again eventually."

"I am happy."

"You don't sound happy."

:"I was thinking about what caused my paraplegia. If only I had chosen Door Number Three."

"It's be nice to change the past. There are a lot of 'if onlys' but only what is."

"We could have done something productive. You're smart. You might have cured AIDS if I hadn't dragged you into..."

"Our own version of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce?"

"Jarndyce v. Jarndyce ended at the end of _Bleak House_, didn't it?"

"Yes, but Richard Carstone died at the end."

Jason peered out the window. Visible in the fog was Quarryman Headquarters. "Speak of the devil."

"Sorry about that." Robyn rested her hands on the steering wheel. "I don't want to see it either, but you know the New York traffic. Why have you been so morose lately?"

"You accuse me of being dreary? You've always been a good actress, but I know you've been suffering in silence."

"Not as much as before, but I still wonder. I blew up a building without hesitation and sicced the entire city on gargoyles who did nothing to us. If I hadn't used that tape, the city will still be in the dark." The blonde gestured to the skyscraper. "That odious organization would not exist. If all that happened came from blaming the Demon, was it wrong to blame her? Maybe we're at fault. Why didn't we stop him? Or Father? Didn't he love us? If he's watching us now, what does he think?"

"You've never told me any of this before."

"Believe me, I just wish we could go in and grab Jon, then find some distant locale. Until we can't see this place anymore."

"Running from our problems won't solve them." Jason glanced out the window again. A shadow in the sky made his skin go pale. "The Demon!"

"Not again," groaned Robyn.

"No, I think she's going to the building. She's after Jon."

"Are you sure it was her? How can you tell in this fog?"

"I'd know her shadow anywhere." Jason unbuckled his seat belt. "I have to save him."

"How? You can barely walk!"

"He's our brother."

"That thing is not our brother. That thing has possessed our brother."

"We may not agree with him, but we can't abandon him."

Robyn shrugged. "If you're so eager to be paraplegic again." She parked the car and helped Jason out.

Next door to the Quarryman Headquarters was a hotel. A literature conference held there had just ended. Macbeth, in his Lennox Macduff guise, walked out. He noticed the Canmores entering the building. He reached into his brown jacket pocket and drew out Robyn's cell phone. He figured he could return it when she came out.

XXX

Angela awoke with a groan as the tranquilizer dart wore off. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her surroundings. She was in some sort of cell. Gingerly, she touched the bars. Not electrified, but too solid to bend or break. No way to chip the cement away either. The walls were solid gray concrete – no windows or ventilation ducts.

And she wasn't alone. Chester Berkeley was slumped in the corner of the cell.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," Angela said to her companion.

"I should have just quit and left when Castaway was still in prison. Except I'm too stupid."

"Quit? You were a Quarryman?"

"Yes. I was issued a hammer, but I never swung it at anything. I did most of the drudge work: accounting, keeping membership lists, memos, picking up Castaway's dry cleaning, piloting a helicopter. And paper pushing."

"What made you decide to quit?"

"Oh, that. Halfway between Castaway's ranting and raving after Operation Blitzkrieg went up in smoke. I spent the time between then and now working up the nerve to leave. I decided to deliver important documents to the police. Incriminating stuff, like half the Q-men have warrants for their arrest for everything from disorderly conduct to DWI."

"That was brave of you."

"Nah, it wasn't noble intent at all. I just wanted a good parting shot."

"Why did you take the job. It's pretty obvious he's crazy."

"Oh, no doubt he's a madman. But I needed the money and Castaway's only slightly worse than my old boss."

"Slightly worse? Was your old boss Slobodan Milosevic?"

Chester burst out laughing. "No, but pretty darn close." He shrunk away. "Why are you even talking to me? I'm an ex-Quarryman. You should hate me!"

"Mind if I ask you something personal?" Angela asked.

"Sure. What?"

"Why did you hate gargoyles? You were a member of a society that wants to wipe us all off the face of the earth."

"It's stupid."

"Please. I want to know."

"Promise you won't think any less of me...I never caught your name."

"It's Angela."

He shook her hand. "Chester Berkeley." The man sighed. "My best friend was murdered three years ago. He was mapping an unexcavated site in Guatemala. Alone. He was found dead at the base of a pyramid. Shot in the back. There had been rumors of gargoyle sightings in the area. I took it as a bad omen. I knew gargoyles don't use guns, but I needed somebody to blame. When I heard of gargoyles in New York, I thought it meant someone else I cared about would die. I acknowledge I'm a horrible person."

There were footsteps announcing the arrival of a visitor. It was Castaway. "Why, Chester, you sneaky little traitor."

"Treason is a charge invented by the winners as an excuse for hanging the losers," was Chester's response.

The leader of the Quarrymen smirked. "Quotations won't save you, Benedict Arnold."

"You flatter yourself," retorted Chester.

"We've worked so hard for the cause. How dare you jeopardize it now! You know what happens to traitors..."

"You let Vinnie escape," Chester snapped.

"He was a lower-echelon member. Hardly missed. But you know this organization as well as I do."

"If you're fishing for the papers I stole, it's too late. The police have them."

Castaway gave a smug grin. "If they did, wouldn't they have given you immunity?"

"I didn't stick around to make a deal. Just dropped them in the mail slot. So now what? I get a bullet to my 'too soft' heart?"

"I was thinking more of a traditional execution method. I must make an example to the other gargoyle sympathizers."

_I try not to hate, but it's awfully hard not to detest that jerk. _Angela broke her silence. Her eyes blazed red. "Leave him alone!"

"Rest assured, _Angela_," the Quarryman leader replied. "I have no intentions of harming either one of you...yet."

"My clan will be here," the raven-haired gargess snapped.

"Oh, I hope so. You won't outlive Goliath for long, though." His voice changed to a tone of mock comfort, devoid of any sympathy or remorse. "You won't want to live without your precious Daddy anyway. I should know. Your mother killed my father. The cosmic scales of justice will achieve a certain irony. I lost my father, the Demon will lose her daughter before she falls herself."

_Either he hasn't guessed my mother's immortal, or he doesn't know how she is. _It took all of Angela's willpower not to snarl at her enemy. She waited until he was gone, then turned to Chester. "Do you have anything to pick this lock? A pin or something?"

Chester searched his pockets. "Just some spare change and a lighter."

Angela took the lighter. "Hardly a blowtorch, but maybe we can melt the lock." She maneuvered her wrist toward the lock and flicked the switch.

XXX

Castaway got out of the elevator and checked the main surveillance cameras. He passed through the first floor lobby, then did a double take. His siblings were standing side by side. "Jason...you can walk again?"

"I still need to get used to it, but yes," replied his brother.

"It's a miracle. Now we can finish what you started."

Robyn interrupted. "That's why we came."

"Excellent. Goliath and the Demon have already entered the building. Three against two."

"Forget them," snapped Robyn.

"She's right," added Jason. "We're still young and we still have each other. We can start anew."

"No!" howled Castaway, his face contorted in rage. "I have no intentions of harming you two, so if you'll excuse me..." Without warning, he backed out the door and slammed it. Before the siblings could grab the knob, there was the click of a lock, then running footsteps.

"He's not listening to reason," observed Robyn.

Jason groaned and sank onto one of the couches. "And my anesthetic chooses now to wear off."

"Stay there," commanded his sister. She gave the door her most powerful kick. It shook. She kicked again. This time it fell. She peeked out the corridor. Her brother was gone, no doubt gone to his office. But there were voices.

"He went into the elevator!"

"Which would be nice, laddie, if we knew what floor he was going to."

The owners of the voices were Brooklyn and Hudson.

Robyn gulped. "Excuse me."

Brooklyn heard her. "Well, if it isn't the Huntress."

The woman gulped. "I know you have every reason to attack me, but listen."

"Why should we?" inquired Brooklyn. "You destroyed our home and featured us on America's Most Embarrassing Home Videos."

"Would it help to say I'm sorry?" Robyn asked. "Jason and I have to get to Jon before he does something crazy. Or Demona kills him. Or both."

"Demona's here?" asked Hudson.

"Jon said she was," replied the blonde. "My brother needs help."

"Say no more, lass," Hudson answered. "I'll help him. You and Brooklyn take the stairs."

XXX

Angela was still trying to use the lighter on the cell door. "Why didn't you get out of the city?"

Chester shrugged. "I tried to, but Ralph somehow found me. He's a human hawk."

"Where were you going?"

"Would you believe Guatemala?"

"Why? If that's where your friend died."

"I have an errand to run there. And I guess it's the only way I can reconcile with what happened."

"Chester, you're not going to do something stupid? Like try to confront the murderers?"

He laughed. "I don't have to. Interpol did it for me. Besides, the rumors say gargoyles show up during the day which you and I both know is ridiculous."

_Not as ridiculous as you might think_, Angela thought, but said nothing. "At least you didn't show fear."

"Sarcasm's my defense mechanism. I'm surprised it functions this far in my current state of terror."

"As long as you don't give the jerk the pleasure."

The door swung open again. Demona was in the doorway.

Angela was surprised but pleased. "Mother!"

Demona made her way to the cell door and broke the lock open with one swipe of her claws. She turned to Chester and grabbed him by his shirt color. "Is this human harassing you?"

"Mother, stop! He's a friend."

"There's no such thing as a friendly human, Angela, but I'll oblige you." The redhead dropped Chester. "I shut off the alarms, but it's best to get to Castaway before he suspects I'm here."

The door suddenly crashed down. Goliath surveyed the scene. "Demona! What in blazes are you doing here?"

"Saving my daughter, you dolt!"

Before Goliath could answer, a laser shot past them. Ralph was poised at the end of the corridor, laser cannon smoking. Goliath shielded Angela with his body. Chester ducked.

Demona had a different approach. She sprinted down the corridor, dodging the laser beams, then sacking Ralph – tackling him mid-section. Her eyes glowed. "You'll pay for your betrayal with your life, you wretched..." She prepared to rake her claws across his chest.

Goliath groaned. "Put him down, Demona." She responded by flinging the assassin into the concrete wall, knocking him out. "I meant gently."

There was static, then Castaway's voice boomed from the corridor. "I see you two have joined the soiree."

"It's the PA," Chester groaned. "He's got a microphone that can broadcast from anywhere in the building."

"It's no use, Castaway," Goliath yelled in the general direction of the voice. "Most of my clan's already penetrated your defenses."

The only reply was maniacal laughter, the kind that often echoes through psychiatric wards late at night.

There was a crash of thunder, then the lights went out.

"I certainly hope that wasn't planned," came Chester's voice in the dark. "Probably the storm. My guess is that Castaway will spring the emergency generator. It's on the floor below us."

The lights came back on.

Goliath headed down the stairwell. Upon arrival, he noticed Castaway was standing by the boiler. One of his colored contacts had fallen out. Some of his blonde hair had flopped forward in an eerie resemblance of his old hairstyle. The dim lights illuminated his face like a jack-o-lantern. His hand reached out and cranked the pressure to 300 psi. With all the force he could muster, he ripped out the safety valve. The action distracted him long enough for Goliath to grab an arm and flip.

The Quarrymen leader sailed through the air and landed on the concrete floor. The malicious gleam never left his eyes. He held up the glass box, which opened and revealed the silver cuff. The blonde took off his left gauntlet and slipped the cuff on his bare wrist. "This is my secret weapon." He pressed a button on the silver device. A green wall surrounded them. "It creates a force field. You won't be able to get out, and your posse won't get in. Only one of us can shut it off – and it won't be you. Ready to give up?"

Goliath's eyes flashed white. "Never!"

Angela and Demona ascended the narrow staircase. Chester followed. Brooklyn and Robyn quickly joined them. No words were exchanged. Brooklyn arched an eye ridge at Demona, but she maintained a steady poker face. Robyn scarcely seemed to notice the fire-haired gargoyle, concentrating her gaze on the force field and the battle within. Chester glanced nervously at his watch.

"My weapon also works on a cellular level. It sends electrical impulses into my body. My neurons respond by suppressing my pain response." The gauntlet went back on over the cuff, and Castaway raised his hammer.

Goliath backed away. The hammer missed by an inch and smashed into the plaster wall, leaving a gaping hole.

Outside the force field, Brooklyn tapped the 'wall.' It felt like solid titanium. His claws weren't even scratching it, either. "No luck. Goliath's on his own."

Angela quivered. Her mother squeezed her shoulder. The raven-haired gargess buried her face in Demona's chest to keep herself from crying. Amazingly, Demona wrapped her arms around her daughter as if to reassure her.

Castaway reraised the hammer and swung again. The head slammed into the artificial green wall with such force that it broke. The stem severed from the head. The blonde let out a snarl and curled his hands into fists.

Meanwhile, the boiler hissed.

Goliath dove forward and sank his claws into Castaway's chestplate. The metal tore, but Castaway punched the gargoyle in the stomach before it could come off.

"Give up?" taunted the blonde. "Notice the silence? One-way soundproofing. They can hear us, but we can't hear them."

Hudson and Jason joined the others outside the force field.

Goliath swung a fist, which Castaway blocked. Goliath's other hand slashed across the human's arm. Three torn lines appeared in the armor. One dripped blood from where the claw had broken the skin. The ribbon of blood slowed to a trickle.

Castaway pulled off his left gauntlet, revealing the scratch. It had closed, but was still visible. "The secret weapon also accelerates the clotting process. I don't feel anything short of invincible!" He swung his right fist, which Goliath barely avoided. The fist slammed into a crate. The crate seemed to explode. Bolts of navy blue cloth, spools of thread, and wood splinters flew everywhere. "Think that hurt?" The gauntlet had dented considerably. "You might as well give up! I can last till dawn!" The boiler was sputtering. "You can't, and neither can that thing! Ever seen a boiler explosion? Steam and sharp metal everywhere!"

You'll be impaled too, Goliath thought but didn't say anything. He could tell his rival's hatred overrode any desire to save himself.

"And once you're gone," the Quarryman continued. His blood pressure was nearing a peak of 175 over 90. "I'll pick off your remaining friends one by one." Once again he charged. Goliath spun like a matador dodging a bull. This time the assailant slammed into the boiler, leaving a dent. It looked like the Incredible Hulk had used the device as a punching bag.

Goliath panted. Strength was his forte, not agility. He glanced at the two Canmores, observing the mixture of fear and disgust in their faces.

_Kill him now, Goliath_, thought Demona. _I know you support the human race, but this one deserves to die the most. Do it now! _

"How long can you keep this up?" cried the blonde man. His right gauntlet was dented beyond use, so he pried it off. "Dodge a hundred times. I only have to nail you once! And when I do, how much of you will be left?" He snatched up the discarded hammer head and threw it. Swifter than a catcher playing in the World Series, Goliath caught it and threw it back. Castaway tried to dodge it, but the projectile slammed into his right shoulder. The armor dented. There was a sickening crunch as the clavicle beneath shattered. Castaway didn't feel pain, though his right arm was nearly immobile.

Goliath appeared to be studying him. "Canmore?"

"Don't call me that."

"I think I've heard enough." Goliath's eyes flashed as his fist met the man's jaw.

Castaway flew backward from the impact. With a glare, he sprung back to his feet.

"Look!" Goliath pointed at Castaway's hands.

In spite of himself, he did so. The peach skin was an angry red. His knuckles were swelling. Bruises were already turning purple. He couldn't move two of his fingers. The phalanges on three more were dislocated, sticking out at crazy angles. Dried blood was crusted around multiple cuts.

"You're still made of flesh and bone, Jon Canmore. Ordinary muscle and bone, which have limits. Too bad there was no pain to tell you when to stop." Goliath leaned closer. "You just can't stop yourself."

"No! You're wrong!" Castaway was on his knees but he pointed a shaking hand at the boiler. "I get the last laugh on my treacherous siblings, the police, your clan, and on you." The cuff fizzled and fell apart. The force field disintegrated.

Goliath wasted no time. He ran to the boiler and without hesitation ripped the hull open. White steam hung in the air, hissing angrily. His claws had mild burns, but Goliath ignored the inflammation.

Hudson leaned close to the fallen hunter. "You've threatened numerous innocent people, caused a lot of property damage, and drowned a reasonable and rational man. So between you and me, who's the monster?"

Castaway could only groan and lose consciousness.

There was clapping, coming from Chester. Everyone else turned to look at him. He blushed and stopped mid-clap.

_How could you let him live? _Demona thought in disgust. She let go of Angela and ran toward the stairs, ducking into a corridor alcove.

Jason knelt by his unconscious brother and felt a steady pulse. Tears streamed from his blue eyes.

Goliath moved toward them. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jason replied. "He did this to himself."

"I never did thank you for taking that laser shot. Or saving Elisa."

Jason did not meet Goliath's gaze. "I don't deserve it, for all I did to you. I can say I'm sorry, but it hardly changes anything, does it?"

"You're forgiven, Canmore. Rage can make you do things you wouldn't ordinarily do."

"I've called EMS," Broadway chimed in. "When the paramedics see him, they'll only be too eager to lock him in a padded cell. I'd say it's over."

To Be Concluded


End file.
